Snarling, snapping at the air, Badger came to Liza, her beady eyes fierce. She eyed the knife. Between the blade and Eloko’s claws, Liza figured she would emerge from this either dead or so bloodied that she would surely die in the long walk back to the carnival trailers. She only hoped Jamey wouldn’t get caught in the middle.
“Population control?” Keep him talking while she figured out how to attack.
“Our taste,” Eloko droned on, darting forward and taking a tentative slash at Liza, who easily backed away, “is for human flesh. And I have been waiting long enough to fill my belly with you. I will eat you. No matter what Ahiku says, I will savor the taste of your cursed blood. I will gnaw on your bones after I’ve consumed all the thick meat coating them. I will bottle your blood and sip on it from time to time. A way to remember you after I have shat you out.”
Liza shuddered. She supposed those claws and fangs were not for livestock after all.
“Besides Jamey, and that hyena demon that moons over you, I don’t suspect anyone will miss you. Aah, but little Twiggy. Know how Ahiku has survived so long? She consumes the souls of children. Particularly the feisty ones like dear Twiggy. Ahiku may gain ten more lifetimes from her soul alone.”
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Children. The reason Clay always got so riled up about having them around, why Hope’s son was in Baltimore and not with her, why the sounds of children playing and laughing were reserved for only when the carnival was open to the public. If that demon thought she was going to get her hands on Twiggy . . . she shuddered to think of how many children had died, walking helplessly around the carnival, only to be picked off like wild game. Liza feinted right.
Eloko streaked forward, dodged left, and swiped the blade sideways, barely missing Liza’s stomach, as Badger sent her an emphatic “move left” image a split second before. But Eloko compensated quickly and, with Liza’s back turned, caught her with the claws of his other hand.
Eloko’s claws grazed her skin, stuck in all the beadwork Autumn had insisted she put on the fringe of her performance jacket. Liza said a silent thank-you to her trailer mate. He yanked and pulled to free his hand, raising the knife again.
Raven surged forward, a magician’s deception. The knife in Eloko’s hand turned to a black, slithering snake that arched its body up and bit the dwarf on the snout. Eloko tossed the snake as far as he could, still struggling to free his hand. The knife returned to its proper form and clinked against a too-distant rock.
He crouched low and darted in, raking Liza across the ankle, sending her crashing to the ground. Before she could blink, he’d scrambled behind her and pulled her head back with one hand and had the other poised to pierce her throat. Liza’s right forearm pressed against his, struggling to push back his claws. The dwarf was deceptively strong. The lights, the carnies—help was so close.
A body slammed into Eloko with a thud. He was thrown from her and she was free, but Jamey—
Liza looked up in time to see a rock in Eloko’s hand come down hard against Jamey’s skull.
“No!” she cried out, and Eloko turned to her, raised the rock, and snaked out his tongue, tasting Jamey’s blood on the rock. Liza’s gag died with a scream as she shifted into the illusion of a howling, snarling badger and launched herself at Eloko.
The dwarf’s sparkling eyes bulged, and he let out a surprised shriek as they fell into a heap of claws, teeth, and badger attitude. Eloko was a fierce fighter, landing bites and scratches of his own, but Badger was faster and more cunning. Badger leaped and bit Eloko on his face, tearing out shards of grassy hair. She darted around and took a nip out of Eloko’s leg, dodging another close call with those claws.
Badger moved so fast that Liza became dizzy, lost in the transformation. Eloko collapsed under the assault, took a few more ineffectual swipes. As life ebbed from the dwarf, his tongue flicked out over his snout and teeth.
“At least I got to taste her blood,” he muttered and then lay completely still.
On the ground, inches away, Liza returned to herself. She bore the deep gouges and lighter scratches of the battle she was so relieved to have won that tears of joy mixed in with the pain and fell freely from her eyes. She winced as she tried to get up. Raven soothed her, commanding her to lie still. She would have to let the healer do his job.
And in that moment, the air around her shuddered. Eloko was tied to the demon, and in his passing, his spirit could open a new path to the red trailer.
She closed her eyes to the sound of Elephant and her herd, trumpeting a cry of victory.
In the red trailer, Ahiku’s eyes snapped open. She ripped off the wet towel she’d draped over her face. What woke her was the swift, screaming passage of Eloko’s spirit. What had the little fool done! Had she not told him to only wound the girl? She had to kill Oya’s instrument herself, or another would appear in her place. She called out to Zinsa and Efe to go and look for the girl, to make sure she was safe. They ran off.
Ahiku retreated behind the dark curtain, back into the spirit world, her spell protecting the red trailer forgotten. There, Eloko’s spirit was being bandied about like a football. As fast as the teams flipped him about, ripping out his flesh and grassy hair, it grew back, only for him to be tortured some more.
She surged forward and grabbed Eloko’s spirit by its neck. He looked at her with horrified eyes. “Please, Ahiku. She’s alive. I was only trying to help you.”
“Shut up!” she screamed. “If she dies before I kill her, you will suffer unspeakable horrors, every minute of every day, for eternity.”
Ahiku tossed Eloko’s soul into the waiting hands of a litany of African souls that he had consumed during his illustrious lifetime.
CHAPTER FORTY
THE LIGHT OF DAY
The next day began with a sun so bright, so pure, that one could barely believe the deadly fight that had taken place within sight the night before. Escalating winds sent bits of cotton candy, napkins and posters, and other debris tumbling around the midway. A crowd massed, mulling over the stiff but not yet stinking body of Eloko—former star performer of the G. B. Bacchanal Carnival. Liza fought to appear calm as Clay stood with his fists planted at his sides, a slick string of hair falling over the left eye of his upturned face. The day was shrouded by a brooding, angry haze. Dust particles hung on the air like wheat-colored, earthly stars.
“Eloko’s dead?” Uly voiced the obvious, earning himself a narrow-eyed glare from Clay.
Zinsa and Efe—most certainly dispatched by this Ahiku woman . . . demon—had probably expected to drag Liza back half-dead last night; instead they’d found Eloko and unceremoniously dumped him on the ground where he still lay.
“He was ripped apart is what happened.” Clay kicked at a rock. “And I want to know how.”
Some of the onlookers stole surreptitious glances in Ishe’s direction. But usually, when he turned, it was no secret. They’d all had a hand in dragging him back to the carnival a time or two in the past.
Ishe rubbed his chin. “Can’t take credit for this one.”
Malachi sat on his haunches next to Eloko and took the dwarf’s clawed hand in his. He lowered his head, arranged Eloko’s hands on his destroyed chest in as peaceful a manner as he could, stood, and blended back into the crowd.
“A misunderstood soul,” he said barely above a whisper.
Eloko had mattered, to Malachi if nobody else. It wasn’t guilt that stirred in Liza’s belly but a sympathy. A loss was a loss, and she’d seen her fair share of it to know it wasn’t something she’d wish on the man.
Liza and Jamey stood side by side, their lips sealed in a grim line of solidarity. After Raven had healed Liza, returning her to something of a normal physical state, Liza had tended to Jamey, her hands and energy guided by Raven’s healing magic. Jamey was no worse for wear, sporting only a small lump and a scar near his hairline that he hid by pulling his cap down.
She was stunned that Jamey had come to her aid. After th
eir last conversation, she’d just assumed he’d never want to lift a finger for her again, let alone put his life on the line. The words he’d flung at her . . . awful words. But a person’s anger is often no more than anguish dressed up in a crusty old overcoat. Jamey had been unable to mask his pain, and that saddened her most. Lies rolled off the tongue like gentle coos to a baby. The truth, though, fought its way out like something feral. But doing the right thing and withstanding the consequences gave her a strength she didn’t know she had.
“Nobody saw nothin’?” Clay looked from face to blank face. Truth be told, Liza doubted that, besides Malachi, anybody could call up any strong emotion for the dwarf. Eloko wasn’t what one would call likable. But he was a good earner; Clay would need another strong act to replace him.
Goose bumps of fear crawled up Liza’s arms—Eloko had been one of Ahiku’s. She’d never asked about the nature of Clay’s relationship to Eloko or how he’d brought him to Bacchanal, because it wasn’t her business. It was now.
“Wonder if it could have been somebody local?” Jamey found his voice and moved an authoritative step forward, Clay’s steady right hand again. “I mean, we know this sure as hell ain’t the work of a carnie.”
Liza’s eye twitched a little when he added that last bit. A furtive glance around the crowd revealed two scrutinizing gazes locked on her: Zinsa’s and Efe’s. But instead of their customary scowls, their expressions were something akin to respect. They knew. Of course they knew.
Clay considered things for a long moment. “Much as I hate to see somebody get away with this, can’t take the risk of having any bored cops sniffing around here where their nose don’t have to sway. This here is an internal matter. We’re gonna have to bury him.”
Bombardier stepped forward and picked up Eloko, cradling him like a child. Clay sent a couple of carnies for shovels, and the rest searched for a suitable burial spot a safe distance from the carnival. There, Liza watched from the shadows as Eloko was buried with only Malachi, Bombardier, two diggers, and Clay in attendance.
The carnival manager removed his hat, said a few terse words, and with a last toss of dirt, Eloko was consigned back to dust. Clay also set others to work, removing Eloko’s posters and banners. By opening time, there would be no evidence that Eloko, the dwarf from Zaire, had ever been a member of the G. B. Bacchanal Carnival.
It was the spider that crawled up her leg during Eloko’s burial that helped her find the trailer. The lure: an image promising a bounty of insects. The master of webs and mazes, bearer of keen eyesight, navigated what remained of Ahiku’s tangled shroud and relayed the fresh path made by Eloko’s spirit back to Liza. She stopped by Hope’s trailer to say goodbye to her sister and Mico. Twiggy was occupied playing with a ball. She ran and wrapped Liza’s legs with a hug. Liza picked her up and held her, conscious of how perfect Twiggy’s hands felt clasped around her neck. Their parents gone as soon as Liza had found them. When she set her down, Twiggy looked at her curiously, as if she grasped the depths of her sister’s distress, but the child remained easily distracted by a game of catch.
Liza let Mico and Twiggy play together, and she pulled Hope aside. “If something should happen to me—” She looked at Twiggy and choked back tears.
“You didn’t even have to ask. And we’ll be here waiting when you get back.”
“Twiggy!” Liza called.
Twiggy kicked the ball to Liza and ran over.
“How would you like to hang out with Aunt Hope and Uncle Bombardier again today?”
“Where you going?”
“I’m not going anywhere, but I have work to do, so they’re going to watch you, okay?”
Twiggy pursed her lips, considering. She looked back and forth between the adults, and the smile on her face faded. “What’s the matter?”
A little girl shouldn’t have had to witness the things that Twiggy had. She bore scars and wouldn’t be placated easily. Liza feigned a chuckle. “Nothing, now that you’re here.” She planted a kiss on her sister’s head and told her she’d see her a little later, praying that she would.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
BOMBARDIER COMES TO TERMS
Bombardier was running back to the trailer and smiled when he saw his wife was already there, waiting at the top of the steps. He’d stopped by Hope’s work trailer to pick up her and Twiggy, but he had been glad to find that she’d already closed up shop; the storm looked like it could hit at any minute.
Hope had been in a state for the last couple of weeks. Distracted, worried. She was hiding something, and Bombardier had been unable to drag it out of her. He stood on the first step and wrapped her in an embrace before they went inside. Standing in the corner, he focused his clear eyes on his wife. “I have had enough of this,” he said in a whisper. “You will tell me what is going on.” He held up a hand as she began to concoct another story. “And do not tell me it is nothing. Some may look at me, take my smile, my good nature, and label me a dumb or simple man. I am neither.”
Hope cradled his face. “A mistake I have never made.”
“Do not let this be the first time.” He removed her hands and crossed his arms. “Sit. You have been moping for weeks. Now you will tell me what is going on.”
“I’m—”
“Shh.” Bombardier flicked his head toward the bed where Twiggy normally slept.
“I’m worried about Eliza.” Hope lowered her voice and played with her fingers.
Bombardier shrugged in a get on with it motion.
“And . . .” Hope looked away. “I miss our son.”
“There,” he said. “That one was not the truth; try again.”
Hope looked like she wanted to burst. She exhaled, fidgeted, stood, flopped back down. “There is an evil here—at Bacchanal. That evil . . . I believe it takes children. I don’t know what happens to them after that. Liza may stop it. But if she does”—Hope froze at the unreadable expression on her husband’s face—“I don’t even understand how, but I think Bacchanal could end. We won’t have jobs. We’ll be back in Baltimore cleaning rooms and hauling bags.”
Bombardier furrowed his brow. Hope cowered at the look of pure hatred in his eyes. “The red trailer?”
Hope shrank back.
“And you said nothing?”
“What could I do?” she protested and then curled in on herself, crying. “You know I don’t see things that clearly. All of this could be my own imagination.”
“If it was, you wouldn’t have held on to it so long.” Bombardier pounded a fist in his hand. He pushed through the trailer door, nearly taking it off its hinges. He stopped in his tracks, afraid that he’d wakened the little girl. And then it came to him. He felt a knot of emotion he had not experienced since he’d had to bid farewell to his own child. He spun around and lurched over to the bed. Twiggy wasn’t there. “Where is she?”
Hope fidgeted but lifted her head, taking on a high-and-mighty air. “Zinsa and Efe are taking her to Clay.”
Bombardier’s face twisted in disbelief. He stomped to within inches of her face. “You gave her to them? They work for whatever is in that trailer, and you handed over Twiggy?”
“I did it for us!” Hope shrank back. “Is Twiggy more important than our own son? If we don’t work, he doesn’t eat.”
Bombardier ran a hand over his head. “I can’t believe you did this. I’m going to find her, and when I get back . . .”
He stormed out of the trailer and stalked the deserted carnival grounds like an agitated lion. Gusts of wind stirred up the earth and anything that lay there: half-eaten food, weeds, and other debris. Trailer windows and doors clamped shut against the racket. Occupants huddled inside.
Bombardier shielded his eyes and trudged forward. Finally, through the swirling mess, he came to stand before the women soldiers in front of a row of shuttered games tents. Their intent plain: keep him away from the red trailer. Zinsa wore a short dagger at her hip, and Efe grasped one of the long spears they used in their sho
w.
“Where is the child?” he asked. All traces of the jovial man with the wide, good-natured grin crushed beneath the weight of his wife’s betrayal.
“Go back to your fortune-teller while you still can,” Zinsa said. Efe raised the spear overhead, twirled it in a series of poses, and held it aloft, waiting.
Bombardier understood he’d have to get through these women to get to Twiggy. “I will not be lied to by women, nor will I be intimidated by them.” He clapped at his forearms rhythmically, one after the other, and crouched. “You want to live like men, I promise you will die like men.”
With a growl, Bombardier reached over and ripped a tent pole out of the ground. It normally took a couple of carnies, a few shovels, and a lot more time to do so. He swung it down hard on Efe’s wrist as the women closed on him. The distinct crunch of breaking bones loosened her grip on the long spear, but she still held on with her right hand. Bombardier snaked behind Zinsa—the stronger of the two—locked a beefy forearm beneath her neck, and lashed out with his foot, knocking Efe backward and sending the spear into the air.
Zinsa brought her dagger down on his forearm. He gritted his teeth at the deep cut, squatted, and lifted Zinsa in a classic laamb move, falling backward and tossing her overhead. Her dagger clattered to the ground. As Bombardier rolled to his feet, Efe hefted the spear with one arm, landing rapid blows all over his body before breaking the spear in two against his back. He stood in time to catch the dagger that Zinsa had recovered and then loosed in his left shoulder. He yanked it free as if it were little more than a toothpick.
Still holding the dagger, Bombardier thrust it into Zinsa’s chest. She clutched at the wound, cried out, and stumbled backward. Blood soaked through her shirt instantly. He slammed his fist into Efe’s face, but not before she buried half of her spear in his left thigh.
Zinsa was on the ground bleeding but still reached out and grabbed Bombardier’s ankle, distracting him long enough for Efe to leap up and slam her elbow to the side of his head in a crushing blow. He managed to stomp Zinsa’s throat, and for the first time, not through jest or folly, not to lure in a mark, but from the bleeding wounds on his body and the accumulation of blows, exertion etched plainly on his face, he fell to one knee.
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