by Ann Charles
Officially, though, what Bruno said was true. He had pushed to bite me and make me his, however … “Bruno, I told you before that I wanted you to do it. I was initially afraid of tying you to me because of my ugly past, but in my heart, I was already yours.”
Instead of appearing to accept what I said and move on, the clouds storming over his features darkened even more. “I should have been more considerate of your feelings.”
What in Hades was going on? Had I slipped into a parallel plane while toying with the spiritual realm tonight? I should have tethered myself more thoroughly. Or maybe it wasn’t me. “Bruno, did you smoke some peyote tonight?”
He shook his head.
“Did you eat any funny-tasting brownies or cookies?”
“Huh-uh.”
“Did somebody slip any pills into your coffee?”
“No. I made the pot of coffee myself.”
I took his face in my hands, searching his gaze. His pupils seemed normal. Hmmm. “Did you hit your head?”
“No, Nora.” His eyes grew moony. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about you all night long.”
Okay, this was really becoming kooky. “And normally you don’t think about me while you’re at work, right?”
I wouldn’t expect him to think about me. Bruno was the top security honcho because he was so good at his job. Before he’d recently returned to our freakshow family, he’d been promoted up the ranks to lead all of the AC Silly Circus Co.’s Security Department, reporting directly to AC herself. Then he came back to help solve the murder of one of our own beloved freakshow clowns, managed to break down the mental wall I’d built to keep him at bay, and transferred back to our little circus to watch over me and all of our friends.
A sheepish smile rounded his lips. “Well, I think about you naked off and on throughout the day.”
For a moment good ol’ Bruno was back, his gaze eating me up. “But not about our relationship?” I pressed.
In a blink, the worry lines returned to his face. He shook his head. “I’m sorry I rushed you, Nora.”
I groaned and threw up my hands. “Bruno, you didn’t rush me and now is certainly not the time for you to have a mental breakdown, so snap out of this bizarre brooding state and let’s go see what’s wrong with Donatello.”
Without another word, he followed me through the maze of tents. His forehead was still creased when we reached the monkey brothers’ tent.
What in the world was going on? Donatello was in some inexplicable trance-like state and now Bruno was acting like someone had pumped him full of teenager hormones.
“Hello?” I called as we stepped inside Marco and Donatello’s tent.
“In back,” Marco returned.
We found him in the side room with the magic trunks. Across the way, Marco was standing in front of the upright trunk his brother had occupied earlier.
“How’s the patient?” I asked.
“See for yourself.” Marco moved aside.
Donatello had returned to the trunk, sitting on his haunches and staring out at us with a blank look.
“Why is he back in the box?” Bruno asked.
“I don’t know.” Marco frowned at his brother. “He was here when I returned after the big top show, as if we’d never moved him.”
I glanced around the room. Several of the trunks had been shifted, probably used in the magic act. “Where are Lemon and Lolli?”
“They went to their tent to get some rest. The extra show wore them out.”
“Bruno, will you please pull one of those trunks over here and set my case down on it?”
After he did as I’d asked, he stepped back into the shadows to watch and wait. Bruno knew that I needed space to “see” what others couldn’t.
I opened the case and pulled out Ol’ Blue along with its stand. “Marco, do you have a chair I can use? Something comfortable would be best.” Creaky, hard chairs made it tough to focus sometimes.
I could sit on the ground, which was soft enough, but I’d rather be able to look down on the crystal ball rather than up at it. I’d learned long ago that different views led to different visions, and staring down often resulted in a clearer picture of the past. Not that Ol’ Blue ever spelled out answers to exactly what I asked. Instead, it tended to give me hazy ideas and clues. That’s where my seer training and years of experience came into play.
Marco hauled in one of the lavish armchairs from their front room. The cushions smelled like Lolli’s favorite cotton candy–scented perfume when I sat in it.
“Do you have some candles handy?”
He opened a trunk next to where Bruno stood watching me and pulled out several white candles already set in holders. I selected two and placed them on each end of the trunk I was using as a table.
I scooted to the front edge of the chair and ran my fingers over the crystal ball. Smooth and cool to the touch, Ol’ Blue glowed to life as I tickled it awake the way my grandmother had taught me so long ago under the starry desert sky.
I stared across the ball at the ape in the box, seeing Ol’ Blue’s reflection in his dark pupils. “Okay, Donatello. Let’s see if I can find out about what you’ve been up to and why you’re so fond of that damned trunk.”
Chapter Three
Long, long ago when I was a girl, my grandmother taught me a very important lesson about summoning and disturbing forces from another plane of existence. Without proper preparations and protections, these forces could attack and drain me, damaging my inner peace permanently, leaving me a broken vessel. She showed me several ways to build a force field around me and those nearby, and stressed the importance of taking the time to perform the appropriate rituals before seeking answers.
Fortunately, I’d already performed most of these routine rituals earlier in my tent. However, to be safe, I did take a moment to meditate and add one more protection to remove any chance of harm coming to Bruno, Marco, or Donatello.
I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, seeking the zone of clearest sight within me. It took more effort without my sage incense. The weariness that came after hours of being “on” with customers didn’t help either, but I’d been working with Ol’ Blue for a long time. We rode the spiritual airwaves like a lone rider on her favorite horse.
“What say you, friend?” I whispered and massaged the cool glass for several seconds. Then I pulled my fingers away and opened my eyes. The crystal ball swirled with gray clouds. “Hmmm.”
Marco tiptoed closer. “Is that bad?”
“It’s not good. Gray usually means misfortune is at play.”
I leaned over the ball, allowing my gaze to become unfocused as I looked into the churning shades of gray. “Show me what has caused the malady within this ape.”
“Monkey,” Marco corrected.
“Ape,” I repeated with more emphasis, squinting at him for a moment. “The crystal ball is no fool.”
He pinched his lips shut.
Again, I stared into Ol’ Blue, my vision blurring for a moment before sharpening on what the ball was showing me.
An image took shape slowly, starting with two legs. Then I realized they weren’t legs, but rather ears. Rabbit ears. Correction, make that long jackrabbit ears.
Finn!
One of the longer-running acts here at the freakshow was performed by Finn the Jackrabbit, a shapeshifter who preferred his furrier facade to his human one. Finn’s act consisted of reading from a book full of Bugs Bunny quotes while speaking in various accents, his Scottish brogue being one of my favorites. Finn sold out his show every night, since his act was well known and loved by children and adults alike.
But what did Finn have to do with Donatello’s current catatonic state? Was the jackrabbit shifter okay? Had he suffered some sort of misfortune unbeknownst to the rest of us? Finn was superstitious most days, using all sorts of tricks to avoid bad luck.
I covered a yawn, struggling for a moment to stay on task.
The smoky swirls inside the crysta
l ball grew more frenzied and took on an orange hue.
“Why is it turning orange?” Marco asked, peering over my shoulder.
“Orange usually speaks of some sort of hidden aggression or anger and other troubled emotions.”
Was Ol’ Blue telling me that Finn had some hidden aggressions? Or was this about Donatello?
As I continued to interpret what the ball was telling me, another image began to form in the clouds. I watched, focusing my inner eye, opening my mind to the forces within.
A blurry image of Bruno’s face appeared, slowly taking a more defined shape. His brow was lined with concentration or worry … or both. My heart pounded in my throat. What did Bruno have to do with all of this? Was Ol’ Blue picking up some residual thoughts about my conversation with Bruno on our way here, or was this something else?
“Oh no,” Marco gasped. “It’s turning red. Red is never good, is it?”
“Ol’ Blue is warning me,” I explained.
“Warning about what? Is something else going to happen to Donatello? Is he going to die in that trunk?”
“I don’t know yet. Give me a moment to see.” When Marco continued to hover, huffing in my ear, I said, “Bruno, help me out here.”
Bruno stepped forward and took hold of Marco, pulling him away, giving me the space I needed.
After regaining my tranquility, I said, “Now, where were we?”
Through eddies of smoke, I saw a clear image of Donatello, only he was in his human form, not his current ape state. He was staring down at something. It took me several beats to figure out what the item was in his hands—his clipboard.
The ball reverted to its starting blue glow, the image inside fading, the swirls evaporating. The door to the other plane was closed. Apparently, that was all of the information I was going to receive.
“Why is it blue again?” Marco asked.
“This session is finished.” I sat back and stretched my neck, drained physically as well as mentally. “I’m too tired to continue,” I added, pushing away thoughts about how soft my pillow would feel right then. “We’ll have to use what I learned for now and see where it leads us.”
“Thank you,” I told Ol’ Blue and covered it with the velvet shroud. Sinking into the chair, I recited the closing chant that my grandmother had taught me would seal the door to the other plane until I needed to open it again.
“Well?” Marco asked, standing beside my chair. “What do we do now, Electra?” I could hear the tension in his voice. “How do we get Donatello to come out of that trunk and stay out?”
I stared at Donatello while massaging the back of my neck. I had an idea, but it was more of a search mission than anything to do with actually rescuing Donatello from his trunk. “We’re going to go see Finn.”
“Finn?” Marco scoffed. “That damned jackrabbit is probably high as a balloon by now. You know he decompresses with a joint after his show.”
It wasn’t only after his show that Finn found mind-altering ways to relax, but that was the jackrabbit’s business, not Marco’s.
I pushed to my feet. “High or not, I need to ask him a couple of questions.” I looked over at Bruno. “You want to tag along?”
“Of course.” He took Ol’ Blue’s lockbox from me after I put the crystal ball away.
Marco opted to stay back at the tent and keep an eye on his brother while Bruno and I headed for Finn’s tent. We saw Eugene coming toward us across the grassy midway in striped pajama pants, a holey T-shirt, and hiking boots. Trailing behind him were two raccoons. At first I thought they were merely heading in the same direction as he was, but when Eugene stopped as we drew near, one of them climbed his leg. Its back foot caught in his bootlace, untying it as it yanked its foot free, and then clung to his knee like an opossum.
“What’s with the raccoons?” I asked him.
“Are they friends of yours?” Bruno reached down to pet the bigger one that was near Eugene’s ankle. It snarled up at him, adding a hiss for good measure after he yanked his hand back.
“I don’t know.” Eugene winced and extracted the raccoon clinging to his knee, setting it back on the ground. “They showed up midway through my show and joined me on stage. The crowd loved them, so I went with it. I figured Marco must have sent them to help me out so that I wouldn’t have to ask someone in the crowd to light my matches.”
“These two raccoons can light your flaming torch for you?” I watched as the smaller one Eugene had set down started to tie the big guy’s hiking boot for him, its fingers deft.
“Yep.” He sounded like a proud father. “I only had to show them once how to use the lighter Finn let me borrow. They picked up on the trick pretty quick. They’re smart li’l buggers.”
“Ornery, too.” Bruno was still glaring at the raccoon that had hissed at him. “Are they shifters?”
“No, but they must have been someone’s pets. They’re too obedient to be feral.”
The raccoon finished tying his boot and chattered up at him.
Something was odd about these two raccoons. They were acting more like doting aunts than regular animals, yet they didn’t show any of the characteristics of shapeshifters. I leaned down and sniffed in their direction, smelling a musty forest-like scent coming from them. Nor did they smell like shifters.
“They weren’t afraid of you when you were in your werebear form?” I asked.
“Not at all,” Eugene said and scooped up the bigger one, cuddling it against his chest. “It was as if they knew I’d never hurt them.” He scratched the raccoon behind the ears. “Isn’t that right, li’l buddy?”
The raccoon purred.
“Hmmm,” I said.
It seemed to be a sound I was making more and more lately.
Bruno looked over at me. “What’s that for?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. Let’s go find Finn. See you later, Eugene.”
With a wave, the man-bear lumbered off with his two new friends, the smaller one waddling behind him to keep up.
I turned to Bruno. “Did anything about that scene seem odd to you?”
“Yes.” He scratched his stubble-covered jaw, staring after the threesome. “That big raccoon growled at me.”
“So?” Had Bruno noticed a sign of some nefarious force at work in the raccoon?
“Why do you think it did that?” he asked. “It didn’t growl at you. Did it feel more threatened by me because I’m bigger than you? Or did it have to do with my voice being more baritone? Wait, it can’t be either of those because Eugene is larger than me with a much deeper voice.”
I crossed my arms. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out what I did to that raccoon to deserve a growl. I thought I was being friendly.”
“Seriously, Bruno, what is going on in your head tonight? You don’t usually—make that ever—question things like our relationship or some other animal’s ambiguous aggression.”
He scrubbed his hand down his face. “I don’t know. My brain keeps getting stuck on things tonight.”
I grinned. “You certainly have a way with words.”
He gave me a mock glare. “Keep it up, wench, and I’ll throw you over my shoulder, take you back to our tent, and have my way with you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Yes.” His brow wrinkled. “Or was that too strong? Did you feel overly threatened? Because I was just kidding. I wouldn’t throw you over my shoulder unless you were okay with that. And I’d never force you to—”
“Bruno, shut up.” I tapped my index finger on his forehead. “I think you have a wire loose up here.”
He grimaced. “You think it’s a tumor? I’ve heard if you start smelling burning hair it means—”
“Please stop before my ears start crying.” I turned and walked away, heading for Finn’s tent.
Bruno caught up with me outside the jackrabbit’s tent flap. “Sorry about that back there,” he said, sounding back to his old self. “I’ve had the weirdest day.”<
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“You and Donatello, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m not usually so prone to self-analysis. I blame you.”
“What?” I gaped at him. “Why me?”
“Because you’re a saucy, seductive siren and before you got into my head, I never had this problem.” His teasing grin took the bite out of his words. “So, why are we paying a visit to Finn so late?”
“I saw him in Ol’ Blue through the gray swirls of misfortune. I want to find out if he is suffering from ill luck, or if this Donatello situation is somehow connected to him.”
“What else did you see in your magic ball?”
I scowled at his description of Ol’ Blue. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s not a ‘magic ball’?”
“Fine. Your all-seeing eye. Is that better?”
“A little,” I conceded. I leaned in close to his ear. “I saw you in the orange.”
“The orange? That’s the warning one, right?”
“No, it’s aggression or troubled emotions.”
He grimaced. “Well, I’ve certainly been a hot emotional mess tonight.”
“Yeah. It must be your time of the month.”
He burst out laughing before I could cover his mouth with my hand.
“Hey, dude and dudette.” Finn poked his head out through his tent flap. One of his long ears was listing to the side. He let out a puff of sweet-smelling smoke. “Did you come to have a little late-night roll and smoke with me?”
“No, I need to talk to you about something,” I told him. “Can we come inside?”
“Uh …” He glanced over his shoulder. “My place is sort of messy. How about we talk out here?” He stepped outside with us, pulling the tent flap closed behind him.
Bruno and I exchanged glances of suspicion. Something was up with Finn. He usually didn’t care how clean his tent was when I came to visit. Heck, I’d been in there amongst dirty clothes, stacks of books, and carrot butts littering the floor and furniture.
