Carnival of Bones (Carnival of Bones Duet Book 1)

by Penn Cassidy

  I nodded, feeling uneasy immediately. I knew all about him, and so did everyone else I’d grown up with.

  “Do you believe?” he asked.

  “Of course I do.” What kind of a question was that?

  Papa Legba was a favorite of mine. The spirit of the crossroads.

  “I’m not afraid of him though,” I said with conviction. “My grandmother used to tell me all kinds of stories, but I’ve never contacted him directly.”

  I remembered all those years ago when my dad would take me with him to the parades and we’d toss candies and sweets out to the tourists as he held me high up on his shoulders. He’d told me that Legba wanted us to share with the children and spread some joy to whomever we could. I used to live for those days.

  A lot of people feared Papa Legba. There were stories of those who abused his generosity or people who attempted to summon him before meeting a gruesome end. But it was nonsense in my opinion. Just stories.

  “Good,” Theodore said sharply.

  I cocked my head in confusion. “Why do you ask? Is that who—”

  Bael grinned wider as I choked.

  My blood ran cold.

  This is the crossroads, a place where the living can not walk…

  The realization of exactly how much danger I was currently in hit me like a train. Bael and Theodore just waited as it sank in.

  I stood up, my legs wobbly. Lafayette leapt to the floor, startled by my sudden movement.

  “That's impossible!” I spat at the men, knowing that I could easily provoke either one of them into a rage.

  They both proceeded to blink at me, expressions suddenly devoid of emotion.

  I couldn't breathe.

  “I—I think I need some air,” I said before anyone could say a word to calm me down. The walls felt like they were shrinking around me.

  Trying to gracefully navigate the sea of furniture and candles, I headed for the nearest doorway I saw. It was covered in a beaded curtain, but beyond it, I could see flashing lights, so I figured I was heading in the right direction. Not that I knew where the hell I would even go.

  If Legba had brought me here, he wasn’t about to let me go easily.

  Somehow, Lafayette was waiting for me by the beaded curtain, sitting perfectly still, blinking his silvery eyes innocently.

  “I blame you for this,” I choked out, stepping around him and out into the lights of the carnival.

  I tried to suck in a breath, but my lungs didn’t want to obey. All I wanted to do was drop to the ground and curl up into a ball.

  What was the point of all this? Why would the spirit of the crossroads bring me here and then abandon me? Grandma Anne never prepared me for something like this.

  I heard a meow behind me and glanced over my shoulder. Lafayette was following closely. I tried to shoo him away, but he obviously didn’t care.

  “You know, they say black cats bring nothing but bad luck…”

  The look the cat gave me was as close to an eye roll as any animal could get without looking unnatural.

  I couldn’t help but laugh, almost hysterically so, as I bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to suck in deep breaths of cool night air. I was so close to hyperventilating, it wasn't even funny.

  It took nearly five minutes of this until I could breathe again, and all the while, the little black cat just sat there, judging me.

  Straightening, I allowed myself to look around and realized we weren’t far from the edge of the trees on the outskirts of the carnival.

  There was less light out this way, just a few lanterns and strings of fairy lights. We were separated from the rest of the grounds by an arched wooden bridge that crossed a stream of swamp water that looked about three feet deep.

  I could see lines of those grey people over by the booths and tents on the other side of the bridge. I didn’t want to go anywhere near them.

  I wondered if those were the lost souls. If what Bael and Theodore said was true, and this really was the crossroads and the living could not walk here, then that would mean that all those people were dead. The thought made my head spin and my stomach heave.

  “Why don’t we go for a walk?” came a voice from behind me.

  I had no idea how long Bael had been there because he was so damn quiet. I cast him a look that I hoped said, What on earth makes you think I want to go anywhere near those dead people?

  Bael only gave me a bemused smile. “Just a walk, darling. You look like you could use it.”

  “I don’t feel so well,” I said, placing a hand on my stomach. I started to sway, feeling like any moment, I could topple over into the mud. “I seriously think I need to lie down.”

  He almost looked concerned for a moment as he looped his arm with mine and pulled me tight against his side.

  “Worry not, mon chérie, I have just the place for you to rest your pretty head.”

  Bael left me in a beautiful covered wagon on the outer edges of the carnival to rest. He said it belonged to someone who wouldn’t mind me using it for the night.

  I was so tired that I could barely bring myself to care. I just needed to lie down and sleep off this rolling nausea.

  There was something wrong with me, obviously. I just couldn’t place my finger on what it was. This carnival was all wrong, I’d known it from the second I saw it through the trees.

  I knew all about the crossroads. Well, in theory. Grandma Anne and my father taught me to respect Papa Legba, the spirit of the crossroads, as well as fear him. But I never did fear him.

  The crossroads was supposed to be a sort of waypoint. It was where the spiritual body decided to part with the physical and move onto the next plane of existence, wherever that might be.

  Sometimes, spirits were chaotic and panicked when the time came, not knowing where they were supposed to be. Legba was there to usher the spirit where it needed to go, but a lot of people tended to bastardize his story and make him a sort of Grim Reaper figure, but that just wasn’t the case.

  If he really did bring me here, then why wasn’t he showing himself? Why wouldn’t he just come and tell me what he expected me to do? I was ready and willing to hear him out. After all, I’d spent my entire life sending him offerings and asking him for blessings.

  I wished I could talk to Grandma about this, since she’d probably know exactly what I needed to do. Without her, I was lost.

  It didn't help matters that there were two strange men trying to guide me, so they claimed. Two men that might or might not be trustworthy.

  Bael was an enigma wrapped in a mystery, with his suave, poetic words and sly grins. He was flirty and obviously interested in much more than helping me.

  Then there was Theodore, who I couldn’t get a read on at all. To put it bluntly, he scared the shit out of me.

  But they were all I had right now. Either they were really good actors playing the long game, or they really were just trying to help.

  Fact was, I had no idea, and that was what bothered me. I had no control over this situation, and I felt like I’d been plucked right out of my world and dumped in the middle of another.

  The rules didn’t make sense here, nor did what was expected of me, or how to get back to where I came from. Actually, I wasn’t sure I could go back, even if I wanted to. The crossroads could mean anything, namely that I was here forever.

  In the wagon, blessedly alone, all I wanted to do was sleep. At least it was comfortable, I supposed. It was obvious someone lived here full-time.

  There was a large comfortable-looking bed at the far end of the room and a velvet sofa in front of a claw-foot table covered in playing cards. There were ashtrays next to the cards with long snuffed out cigars and cigarettes resting in them.

  I didn't see any kind of kitchen, no food or drinks anywhere save for atop a cast-iron stove with flickering flame inside the ashy glass, just like the one in that tent I’d woken up in. There was a teapot resting on the top of it, but nothing else. No icebox or fridge. Nothing.

/>   I figured the wagon belonged to a woman, judging by the fact that the interior was almost entirely decorated in bright magenta.

  Sweeping lace curtains were draped along the inner walls, matching the silk comforter on the bed. The plush carpet under my bare feet was also magenta, as were the curtains half obscuring the one window made entirely of stained glass.

  I spent ten minutes fighting sleep as I walked around, inspecting everything as well as I could, trying to figure out if I really was safe in here.

  In the far corner of the room, there was a vanity table with a trifold mirror trimmed in lights, and on it was a messy array of perfumes, makeup, and hair products.

  It was strange though—I couldn't seem to identify anything that even came close to a brand on the bottles. They were all glass, and the makeup was stored in old brass tubes or glass jars rather than plastic. It was like stepping back into the eighteen hundreds.

  I didn’t touch anything, even though I wanted to explore some more. Instead, I plopped myself down on the sofa. I wasn’t comfortable enough to sleep in some stranger’s bed.

  I just hoped whoever owned this place wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, because one, it was bound to be incredibly awkward, and two, I had no idea what to expect.

  All I’d seen so far aside from the grey faced people were eccentric-looking carneys, and they freaked me the hell out.

  In the end, I decided I’d better just sleep before my body decided to take the decision out of my hands entirely. If the owner of this wagon came back, I also hoped Bael was right about them not minding my presence here.

  It was still dark out when I woke up, so I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d slept. But I felt better than before. My eyes weren’t quite as heavy, and the churning in my stomach had settled.

  The wagon was quiet, but in the distance, I could still hear the sounds of the carnival—that strange music that never seemed to stop. Scrubbing my hands down my face, I groaned, unsure if I was ready to get up and look for someone—

  “Oh good, you’re up.”

  I shot off the sofa so fast, I nearly toppled into the stove. A woman stepped out from behind a folded changing partition, dressed in a black and white striped full-body spandex outfit.

  “I’m so sorry, Bael said I could rest here for a while, and I didn’t know if anyone was coming back, but he didn’t exactly give me a choice…” I was babbling.

  The woman smirked and waved me off, heading for her vanity. She sat on the small stool and immediately started messing with her bottles and jars.

  “You’re perfectly welcome here.” She smiled at me through the gently lit mirror. “There’s some hot tea in the kettle, feel free to help yourself.” She cocked her head to the side inquisitively. “You drink, right?”

  Pausing, I glanced from the cast-iron teapot back to the woman, arching a confused brow. What a strange thing to say. Did I drink? Like alcohol? Or tea?

  “Sorry, we’re not exactly used to visitors, sometimes I forget.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Help yourself. There are mugs up in the cupboard.”

  I didn’t move for the tea. Instead, I just waited, watching her put on makeup. She was beautiful, strikingly so. Her skin was so pale that it looked delicate and paperlike, and her eyes were a light shade of dusky rose.

  With blonde hair buzzed close to her scalp and matching snow white lashes and brows, I could tell she was albino. Her features, though pale, told me she was probably Haitian, like myself, or perhaps Pacific Islander. With her high cheekbones, full lips, and thick lashes, she was gorgeous. She was also waif thin and incredibly tall, maybe close to six feet or more.

  “Oh, hun, you look like a deer in the headlights. Bael told me you were lost, but darling, you’d better get it together before this place eats a pretty thing like you alive.” She cast me a wink as she puckered her lips, which were now painted black.

  She was right—I probably looked like a lost lamb fumbling around this spooky place. Could you blame me though?

  “I’m Elly, in case you were wondering. I’d offer to give you a tour, but I’m late for the show as it is, so I hope you don't mind fending for yourself for a while.”

  “Show?” I asked, eyeing her outfit a little closer now. “Are you a carney?”

  Elly turned on her stool, facing me. She ran her pink eyes over me slowly, a barely there smile playing on her blackened lips.

  “You could say that.” She tapped her nails on the tabletop, as if contemplating something. “You look like you just crawled out of a grave.”

  Unable to suppress a choked laugh, I clutched my ruined dress. It was pretty much brown now after marinating in the swamp water for who knew how long, and the bloodstains were black smudges.

  “It feels worse than it looks, trust me.” I glanced towards her sofa and cringed. “Sorry if I messed up your furniture, I kind of reek.” I probably smelled horrific right now, but at this point, I was nose blind to it.

  A look of pity flashed across Elly's pretty face. She nodded towards the changing partition.

  “I hung something up for you to throw on. You can use my shower if you want.” She seemed to think for a moment, wrinkling her nose. “You know what? You don't have a choice. You smell like a sewer.”

  “You have a shower in here?” I asked, filled with hope for the first time in a while.

  Plumbing in a covered wagon? Hope might have filled me, but disbelief rivaled it.

  Elly snorted. “We’re not savages.” She waved me away, turning towards her makeup again. “Go shower and change, then we’ll talk when you no longer resemble something stuck to the bottom of the swamp.”

  Shit. I guess it really was that bad. I supposed a shower couldn’t hurt, even if I didn’t entirely trust Elly. She seemed nice enough, if a little blunt, but she’d only been welcoming so far, which was more than I could say of Theodore and Bael. At least she wasn’t actively trying to freak me out.

  I skirted around the mess Elly had made of clothing, shoes, and random things she’d left strewn around the room as if she’d been dressing in a hurry. Stopping at the folded dressing partition, I glanced back nervously.

  “Can I ask you something?” I willed my voice not to wobble.

  She paused, turning all the way around on her stool and giving me her undivided attention. I needed to know though, and if she could be blunt, then so could I.

  “Are you dead?”

  The question fell heavily between us, but it had to be asked. If this really was the actual crossroads, then I needed to be ready to face the impossible.

  She blinked once, then smiled, pink eyes sparkling. “Yes.”

  My gut clenched and my heart thudded, even though most of me was expecting her answer.

  Elly was dead. So what did that make her now? Was she a spirit? Was she a ghost? A zombie?

  I needed answers, but I also needed a shower. So I just nodded and left it at that.

  Words couldn’t describe how heavenly that shower was. Yes, the shower itself was just a tiny room at the back of the wagon that I could barely turn around in, but it didn’t matter.

  I must have scrubbed my hair four times consecutively before it felt anywhere near clean. When I didn’t smell like dead moss and blood, I called it good.

  An outfit waited for me on a hanger behind the partition, just like Elly had said. It was another flimsy, gauzy dress, this time in a dark amethyst color with thin, string-like straps and an asymmetrical hem that fell to my ankles with a slit all the way up one side.

  It was beautiful and surprisingly comfortable. I didn’t have a bra with me, but luckily, my boobs weren’t huge so I could probably get away with it.

  I stared at myself in the mirror for five minutes straight, psyching myself up to go back out there and face the music. At least that nap and the shower had cleared my head a little.

  What I needed to do was find somebody that could tell me why I was brought here, and by who. If it was Legba…

  I shook my
head at the thought and laughed to myself, bending over the sink with my hands propped on the countertop.

  “Papa Legba has no use for you, Mori,” I whispered to my reflection. “Stop kidding yourself. You're not even a priestess…”

  I could have been, once upon a time.

  My normally dark complexion appeared bloodless, and the dark circles under my eyes made me look like a Tim Burton character.

  I laughed morbidly, the sudden image of the Corpse Bride stumbling through the swampy thickets in a torn white dress springing to mind. That sounded about right.

  I left the bathroom, finding Elly over by the stove up front, pouring two mugs of steaming tea. She’d lit incense on a table by the bed, and the room now smelled like sandalwood.

  It was a cozy little wagon, and it should have put me more at ease. Sadly, it only made me more wary that something bad was about to happen if I let my guard down. Maybe this was exactly what Theodore and Bael had planned all along.

  I just kept picturing all those grey people outside, waiting endlessly in lines that would only lead them to something much worse.

  How did they die? What had they done in life that landed them here?

  I’d been taught about the crossroads as a kid, but it was always more of a symbolic type thing in my head. It was an allegory about the choices you’d have to make in life.

  But this…this was something I’d never imagined in a million years. A physical, literal place where souls came to find out what happened next. It was bone-chilling.

  Elly handed me a mug without looking up. I took it gratefully, relishing the warmth radiating through the ceramic. It smelled spicy and sweet, so I sipped lightly.

  It might have been a bad idea, accepting food or drink from these people, but I was already here, and unless I wanted to starve to death, I needed to take the plunge sooner or later.

  “You look better,” Elly said.

  She sat in a plush chair across from me, folding her legs underneath her body like a pretzel, all while holding her full mug steady. I followed suit and sat back down on the sofa I’d woken up on.