by Nancy Holder
“Smoochies later,” she promised. “Work now.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Angel breathed.
The sign read WELCOME TO MADAME LAZABRA’S.
Willow stepped through a black curtain and into the darkly lit tent. Glow-in-the-dark objects were suspended in the air—a green drill-team baton, a yellow skull, and a purplish letter with the words FROM BEYOND in red where the address should be.
Exotic scents of the Arabian Nights wafted on the night air. Bells tinkled. A gong sounded, vibrating through Willow’s feet.
Across the room the black curtain divided in two as a tall, dark-haired guy about Willow’s age emerged from between two black hangings. As he did so, the suspended objects raised up about two feet in the air. She saw now that they were attached to a rod and pulley.
The guy had on a white shirt and an embroidered black vest, and tight black leather pants and black boots that came up to his knees. A red-and-black sash was tied around his waist.
On his cheek…was that a birthmark?
He silently stared at Willow.
“Vaclav!” a woman’s voice shouted.
“Welcome to the tent of the Gypsy fortune-teller,” the guy said in a loud, showy voice. He sounded like the Count on Sesame Street. “Madame Lazabra knows all, sees all.”
He gestured for Willow to come with him beyond the curtain.
She followed.
Inside were two black, overstuffed chairs and a circular brass table. A petite, olive-skinned woman sat in the chair opposite Willow; she was very beautiful, maybe twenty-five, and she wore a dark scarf with scarlet markings that looked like claw marks. Her two enormous hoop earrings caught the light from a black candle burning on top of what Willow hoped was a prop human skull.
Willow noted the rings on the woman’s fingers, including her thumbs; some had two or three. Most of them were silver; one had a little skull on the front. Another was a large seven studded in rubies.
The backs of her hands were tattooed with swirly henna designs, and her hands were cupped around something as if she were warming them.
As Willow glanced down, the woman slid her hands away, revealing a crystal ball.
It gleamed, throwing off white light.
It was…beautiful.
“Madame Lazabra knows the wishes of your heart,” the woman said in the same horror movie whahaha accent. “You have occult gifts. Your red hair promises that. But occult means hidden. Others overlook you. They don’t see you as you are.”
That’d be nice if that were true, Willow thought. But I have a feeling I’m just plain old regular me.
“Sit down. I will show you.”
A black cat perched on the back of the chair, looking curiously at Willow with its golden almond eyes.
“Look,” the woman invited, gesturing to her crystal ball.
Willow looked.
And she saw:
She saw…
Oh, God, inside the crystal ball…
Her lids drooped. She heard a buzzing in her ears, and something silvery sort of grew inside her mind, expanding outward, firing neurons and setting up new pathways.
It felt like she was getting different.
And different was good.
The interior of the crystal ball blazed with a fiery scarlet. The scarlet became pink, and then silver. It was a mirror. And the face of an elderly man smiled straight at her. His hair was long and white, and his nose and chin were very sharp. He said to her, “No wonder you’re so envious.”
His smile was gentle. “You are being completely overlooked, aren’t you? It’s hard to be so young, and so aware of your limitations.”
Yes, she thought, although she couldn’t speak. Oh yes, I’m so glad someone understands….
Then the ball swirled again; the red fire returned and Willow saw faces, stretched and pulled out of shape.
“Oh!” Sounding surprised, the woman draped a black velvet cloth over the crystal ball as if to hide it from Willow. “That’s enough.”
Willow’s lids drooped again. She saw silver again; the neurons fired like cannons.
Drifting, moving, shifting…
She woke herself up with a snore.
“Oh, wow,” she murmured, licking her lips. “Did I just fall asleep?”
She opened her eyes, to see a tarot reading spread before her. Madame Lazabra sat across from her, holding a glass of water.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Willow frowned. “Am I?…”
“I went to get you some water and you dozed off.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s stuffy in here, isn’t it?”
“It’s…” Willow nodded. “Very stuffy.”
“I need to tell the management.” She shook her head. “The last place we were, it was even warmer than this.” She chuckled. “So, what do you think?” She gestured to the cards. “Look at them, each in turn. Each in turn.”
The woman’s voice was soothing. Calming.
“I…” Willow scanned the layout. She didn’t remember…wait, now it was coming. Now she remembered sitting down, and having a reading.
She had asked about Xander, and the tarot had delivered bad news. She remembered it all now. He was in love with another.
That would be Buffy, obviously.
“I can help you with this problem,” Madame Lazabra said.
“Thank you,” Willow murmured. Then she inhaled sharply and said, “What time is it?”
“Vaclav!” Madame Lazabra cried, clapping her hands.
The young man who had led Willow in reappeared, holding an ebony clock.
Yikes! She was nearly half an hour late for the rendezvous.
“I’m so sorry. Thank you so much. Is there a charge?” Willow asked anxiously.
Madame Lazabra waved her hand.
“Payment will be made,” she assured Willow. Then her mouth practically split open, her smile was so wide. “Soon.”
Giles was pissed off.
“The thing of it is, you’re all late,” he admonished Buffy and her friends. And Cordy, who, of course, was not friends with any of them.
“You were late too,” Cordy said. She was so not taking his crap. “I saw you walking up at the same time as me.”
Giles opened and closed his mouth like a fish. His eyes practically spun. God, what was his deal?
“Okay, look,” Xander said. He burped, and a shot of bad breath misted in Cordy’s air space. “Sorry.”
“Oh my God, you are disgusting,” Cordy said. She waved a hand in front of her face to make it go away. “What have you been eating?”
“Eating? Did you eat anything? I specifically told you not to.” Giles wiped his forehead. He was all sweaty. He reminded Cordy of some mangy creature about to chew off its own foot.
“I didn’t eat anything,” Xander assured him. “The only food I could get near was being served by clowns.”
“And?” Giles prompted.
“Clowns?” Xander said again.
While Giles was busy scowling at Xander, Angel bent down and kissed Buffy on the earlobe. Flushing, Buffy gently batted him away.
Just then, Willow trudged up, and Giles’s wrath was directed at the mousy little Slayerette. Tonight she was screaming street urchin even more than usual, because instead of her usual humble, self-effacing attitude, she looked completely and totally defeated.
“You are very, very late,” Giles flung at her. “Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry,” Willow said. “I lost track of time.” Willow was her usual kick-me self. “I wouldn’t have been so late if…if I had had a beautiful, expensive watch like Cordelia’s,” she said.
Surprised, Cordy glanced down at the one-of-a-kind watch her father had purchased for her in Gstaad. She didn’t even realize Willow paid the slightest bit of attention to accessorizing. Because it sure didn’t show in the way she dressed.
“This thing? Please,” Cordy said, adding silently, Touch it and die.
“Well, we’re a
ll here now,” Xander said. “No machetes in our foreheads either.”
“All right, then let’s debrief. Everyone, check in,” Giles said impatiently. “Did anything unusual happen to any of you? Cordelia, how was the freak show?”
“Freak…oh. I didn’t go,” she confessed, so very much wishing she had just lied.
Giles blinked at her as if she had just told him she bought off the rack.
“Okay,” she rushed on, holding out her hands. “I was headed for it, but I had to go down the midway to get to it. And there were all these games with prizes. These adorable purple baskets made out of glass, and teddy bears dressed like Elvis and…I didn’t win any of them!”
Giles said calmly, “You played games.”
“Yes. Okay, I said I was sorry!”
“No. You didn’t.” Giles crossed his arms over his chest.
“Well, I meant to!”
“Giles,” Buffy said. “It’s no big, okay? Right?” she persisted.
Wow, Buffy is defending me, Cordelia thought. Maybe I’m in bigger trouble than I know.
Giles jabbed a finger at Cordy like it was a butcher knife and he was a serial killer. “You specifically said you would go to the freak show! And you didn’t, and now we don’t know a thing about it!”
“It’s okay,” Cordy pleaded. “We can still go to the freak show. It’s still there. It’s not like it’s, um, any big deal.”
“That’s right,” Xander jumped in. “Like Buffy said. No big.”
“Yeah,” Cordy said. “No big.”
“No big?” Giles asked icily. “Lives are at stake! In fact, I have sacrificed my entire life, and for what? Selfish girls like you who don’t do what they’re told!”
“Hey, hold on,” Cordy said. Now she was pissed. “I am not one of…of you guys, and I know you people have saved my life a few times, but that does not mean you can tell me what to do!”
His eyes bugged out. His face went purple. For a second, Cordy thought he might be having a heart attack.
“Giles, hey, dude,” Xander began. “May I use the word ‘overly’ here? Because—”
“You stay out of this!” Giles shouted at him.
“Giles,” Buffy said. “Are you feeling all right.”
“I’m fine,” he said. He looked at Cordelia.
“Okay. I’m sorry, okay?” Cordy said, trying to put an end to the discussion. If it could be called a discussion. She was all whiny. She hated whiny, but he was freaking her out. “It’s on my list. Freak show.”
That seemed to satisfy him. But Cordy wasn’t sure it satisfied her. She hadn’t signed on for this ghostbusting stuff the way Buffy, Xander, and Willow had. She was still her own person.
“Angel? Buffy? Ferris wheel?” Was Giles actually snapping his fingers at them? God, if she were Buffy, she’d just break them right off and shove them up his—
“Ferris wheel.” Buffy cleared her throat. “It…the line was so long…”
“Long line,” Angel chimed in, wrapping his arm around her waist. He was all white-knight protector, and it was a good look for him.
“But we wanted to,” Buffy said, snuggling up. “We were just worried w-we wouldn’t be able to get back to the group in time.”
Angel nodded.
“As it was, we were still a little late, because the carnival is so crowded and…and we wanted to be polite.”
“Indeed,” Giles sniffed.
“Yes!” Buffy said. “Because I was totally listening to you, Giles, and doing what you told me. So we just did a recon, patrolled around,” Buffy finished. “But we didn’t see anything weird.”
“Nothing,” Angel said.
“Nor I,” Giles said, sounding exasperated. “Willow?”
The redhead took a breath. “I did go to the fortune-teller. Her name is Madame Lazabra, and she’s actually very young. But it was really warm and stuffy, and when she went to get me some water, I dozed off.”
“Ah, I fell asleep on the merry-go-round,” Xander blurted. “Just a little.”
Giles hesitated. Then he said, as if it were some horrible sin, “I got a bit faint in the Chamber of Horrors.”
Cordelia raised her chin. “Well, I spent, like, a million dollars with nothing to show for it, but other than that, I stayed on my feet the whole time.”
“There’s a first,” Xander said.
“We need to check this out further. Together. No more splitting up.” He nodded at Willow. “We’ll go to the fortune-teller first. It’s closest.”
“But why?” Buffy asked. “We already checked out that stuff.”
“And have reached no conclusions,” he said, quite crankily. “For once, just listen to me and do as I say.” He looked at Willow. “Well?”
Even more dejected and rejected, Willow led the way. She supposed he had a point, going back to investigate together. But she had a feeling that if she had suggested it, it wouldn’t have happened.
People listen to Giles, she thought. Even when he’s irritable. Me? Not so much. And I’m almost always pleasant.
“She’s in there,” she said, pointing at the open tent flap.
Giles led the parade inside.
The area they entered was empty. Giles walked up to the suspended Day-Glo objects and the black curtain. A lettered sign had been attached to the curtain. MADAME LAZABRA HAS CLOSED HER TENT FOR THE EVENING. PLEASE COME ANOTHER DAY.
Angel looked back at the entrance. “There’s no one else around.”
“Well, let’s take a peek behind the curtain,” Buffy suggested. “Look around for a demon or something else fun to kill.”
“Your cup of blood is always half full,” Xander said. “I like that in a slayer.”
There was a noise on the other side of the curtain. They all looked at each other.
“No,” Giles whispered. “Let’s leave well enough alone for the time being.”
They trooped back outside.
“Let’s go on to the carousel,” Giles said.
Buffy thought about mentioning what a time-waster this all was, but she didn’t want Giles to bite her head off. What was his deal? Gee.
Xander showed them his spot on the carousel. Giles sat on the chariot bench while Willow, Xander, and Cordelia stood beside the black stallions. Angel hoisted Buffy up onto the unicorn; she felt a little silly but it was still fun as the carousel began to rotate and her unicorn went up and down. Angel was glowing. It was like they were really on a date, all happy, with no death or dismemberment anywhere near them.
“Anyone feel anything?” Giles asked them as the carousel slowed to a stop.
Xander burped and covered his mouth. “Well, I’m not feeling so great. And yet, I’m really hungry.”
“God, all you think about is your stomach,” Cordelia said.
“Currently, yeah,” Xander returned.
“Ferris wheel?” Buffy asked.
“Not fond of heights,” Cordelia said.
“We haven’t gone to the freak show,” Willow ventured, looking at the others.
“We could play some games,” Cordelia put in. “The games are fun. They have great prizes.”
“You said you lost a ton of money in the midway,” Willow argued.
“Are we on Court TV?” Cordelia snapped.
“I just…” Willow looked confused. She took a deep breath.
“The freak show it is,” Giles announced. “Come. No dallying.”
“Not liking freak shows,” Willow murmured. “Too freaky.”
You’re not wrong, Buffy thought as she tried to swallow around the lump in her throat.
The group was standing with about fifteen other people in a room painted completely black. Everyone was walking slowly past a row of things in bottles of formaldehyde. Two-headed piglets, a calf with six feet…they were basically just accidents of nature. But some of them looked human, and they upset the Slayer.
And I thought I could handle just about anything gross, she thought. Even the word—“gross”—seeme
d harsh.
“This is appalling,” Giles murmured, echoing her thought. She felt close to him in that moment, and a little sorry for all the times she had kept him out of her world.
No, wait. That’s part of growing up. But I’m not about growing up, so much. I’m about surviving to fight another day.
“I’ll bet they don’t have stuff like this in England,” Xander ventured. He was green.
“On the contrary, we do, very much,” Giles said. “The British fascination with the macabre is well documented. But that makes it no less appalling.”
Suddenly calliope music poured from hidden speakers. Strobe lights flashed all over the room, then began to spin. To Buffy’s far right, a curtain rose, revealing a small stage hung with red drapes. The silhouette of a tall, caped figure rose from beneath the floor.
“Good evening,” said a familiar voice.
A harsh blue light clicked on, revealing Professor Copernicus Caligari.
“Welcome to the House of Freaks!” he cried.
“Not to be confused with the House of Blues!” Xander said sotto voce.
Buffy tugged on Giles’s jacket and stood on tiptoe. “Giles, that’s him,” she whispered loudly in his ear.
Giles nodded to let her know he’d heard.
“Come with me now, to the world of mutations, aliens, things from another world. Curiosities, monstrosities!”
Thunder rumbled through the speakers, followed by the sound of lightning. Then the calliope music began again—slow, mournful, dirgelike. A few people applauded and a guy in a letter jacket howled like a wolf. The pretty blonde with him giggled.
From another alcove a dark-skinned man in a leather vest, leather pants, and boots appeared with a torch in his right fist. He opened his mouth, leaned his head back, and moved the torch over his lips, then spewed forth a blast of flame.
Willow moved closer to Buffy, and Xander flanked her. Cordelia muttered, “This is so stupid,” but her voice was a little wavery.
Professor Caligari waved his hand to the right. “Follow my assistant, if you dare!”
From beneath a red light a hunchbacked figure limped from the shadows. It—he—was dressed like Quasimodo in the Disney movie, and his face…
Are those scars, or fresh wounds? Buffy thought. It was hard to tell in the bad light. But his features were a ruin, crisscrossed with deep purple lines and red welts. The only part of his face that wasn’t hideous was one eye. The other was covered with an eye patch.
