Shadow Prophecy (The Magic Carnival Book 6)

by Trudi Jaye

  Celestine’s toes curled into her fluffy slippers. “Garth said it was a wedding ceremony.”

  Indigo sighed. “That’s what it sounds like. An old form of the Carny wedding ceremony. The crystals, the candles, the red dress and ribbon. The ribbon must have somehow flicked over onto Sam when you jumped the fire together. It’s part of the ceremony. Even Garth being there helped—he’s a marriage celebrant these days.”

  Celestine gestured for Indigo to sit at the small table in her kitchen area. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked when the silence stretched out.

  “No thanks,” smiled Indigo gently. “I won’t stay long.”

  Sitting down across from Indigo, Celestine widened her hands. “How can I help you?”

  “Tell me about this new link with Sam,” Indigo said.

  “We can both feel the link,” Celestine replied slowly.

  “Has it changed anything else? Jack said you were seeing multiple visions?”

  Celestine hesitated.

  “What is it?”

  “I think I’ve lost my ability to see the future.”

  Indigo’s eyes widened. “What makes you think that?”

  “I’m not seeing the future of everyone around me anymore. I can’t feel it like I used to. I touched Sam and didn’t see anything.” Celestine marked off each point by holding up a finger.

  Indigo seemed to think it through for a moment. “It’s a pity. We could have used your help with seeing possible futures for us with Veronica.”

  Celestine sighed. “I’m sorry. But I really think it’s gone.” She spread her hands wide over the tabletop, and accidentally brushed Indigo’s hand. Celestine stiffened, waiting for the usual involuntary reaction. For a moment, nothing happened, and she smiled. It was an old paranoia she could now let go of. She—

  Time went still, and the familiar rainbow lights brushed across her vision, filling her sight with the otherworld she was so familiar with. It felt like everything was holding its breath, the whole world, the Carnival, and everyone in it.

  And then her world exploded into color. The most specific and detailed color she’d ever had in a vision.

  Indigo was standing next to a river. She was wearing old sweat pants and a sweat shirt. Her hair was ruffled and it looked like she’d been crying. Behind her, hundreds of Carnival folk were busily setting up a camp in the small clearing beside the river.

  There were kids running around, screaming and laughing at the adventure of it all, but fear and apprehension hung in the air around the adults. There was something very, very wrong.

  Two figures approached Indigo. Jack and Rilla.

  Rilla put one hand on Indigo’s shoulder. “Indy, you couldn’t have known.”

  Indigo shook it off and took a step away. “I should have known better than to trust him.”

  “We all trusted him,” said Jack.

  “But I....” Indigo shook her head, unable to go on. Celestine could feel the heartache radiating off Indigo. Someone close to her had really hurt her. “And now...,” She looked around them. “And now we’re here. We’ve lost everything. The Compound, the Carnival. Everything. Because of me.”

  Rilla stepped forward again. “We haven’t lost everything, Indy. We have each other. That’s what’s important. The people. That’s what the Jolly Knight Carnival is really about. As long as we have each other, we’ll be fine.”

  “Will we?” asked Indigo, her voice brittle.

  The image started to fade out.

  Celestine fought to stay. She needed to know who had done this to them. They needed the name of the person who had crushed the Carnival so badly they were camped out by a river. But she didn’t have that kind of control, and the vision disappeared.

  She opened her eyes. Her head was lying on a pillow on the tabletop.

  “I didn’t know what else to do. You were shaking rather badly,” said Indigo awkwardly, a faint flush on her face.

  Celestine sat up. “Thanks. It’s fine. I don’t even notice it.”

  “Can I get you something?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  “So I take it your powers haven’t disappeared,” said Indigo drily.

  “I guess not.” Celestine found it hard to look in Indigo’s eyes. She’d seen the woman completely undone by someone who’d betrayed her. It seemed too personal.

  “What did you see?” asked Indigo. “Does it relate to me? Isn’t that the way it works?”

  Celestine nodded.

  “What did you see?” Indigo repeated. Her eyes were a dark blue, like midnight on a lake. She seemed mysterious and distant. Nothing like the broken woman by the river.

  “I saw you... and the Carnival. But it wasn’t the Carnival. We’d somehow lost the Compound and the tents and the rest of the equipment. Everything but the people.”

  Indigo’s face went white. “How?”

  “Someone close to you is going to betray you. I saw Rilla and Jack trying to console you, but you said... You said you should have known better.”

  Indigo shook her head. “There’s no one who could betray me like that.”

  Celestine shrugged. “It’s what I saw. You were... Not dressed as perfectly as usual.”

  Indigo’s eyes sharpened on Celestine. “What do you mean?”

  “You were wearing... sweats.”

  Indigo shuddered delicately. “Now I know it’s not true. I would never do that.”

  “It’s true, and it’s going to happen unless we do something about it. We have to talk to Jack.” Celestine leaned forward, suddenly overcome with the urgent need to tell the Ringmasters.

  Indigo stood. “We can talk to him in the morning. He’s gone to bed. And you need to rest as well. You’ve had a long night.”

  Celestine felt her own face flush. “What I saw was a real vision, Indigo. I felt it. It will come to pass. It was stronger than any vision I’ve ever seen. I’m not making this up.”

  “I never thought you were making it up,” soothed Indigo. But she clearly didn’t believe Celestine. She stood. “We can talk to Jack in the morning.” Indigo nodded at Celestine and then closed the door behind her.

  Celestine let out a frustrated breath and leaned back in her chair. She couldn’t force someone to believe her words, especially given everything she’d done to set up her reputation as a fake.

  But she would talk to Jack tomorrow, and they would solve this mystery.

  Chapter 37

  Sam had been on his way back to his own trailer when he realized he didn’t want to be alone. He’d detoured and knocked on Frankie’s door instead.

  Frankie opened the door with his usual dour expression. “What do you want? I thought you’d be enjoying the spoils of marriage.”

  “How can you possibly know about that?” said Sam, taken aback. “Are you sure you never leave your place?”

  Frankie shrugged. “Jack came by.” He gestured for Sam to follow him inside.

  “I can’t stay married to her. I... just can’t,” said Sam, his voice breaking in the middle.

  “Is this about that mad woman?”

  Sam nodded. “I can’t have that power over another person. I know what it did to me. I can’t do it to Celestine.”

  “You’re not that old witch. It wouldn’t be the same.”

  “But it would, don’t you see? I would always feel I was doing it for the best, for her. But what if there was something I really didn’t want her to do? That she really wanted to do? I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I’d force her to listen to me. I’d be her keeper.” Sam paced the small room, willing Frankie to understand him.

  “That old hag Veronica, she really did a number on you, didn’t she?”

  “Ten years is a long time, Frankie. You don’t leave unscathed.”

  “No, I guess not.” Frankie looked around the small trailer where he was trapped.

  “So you understand?”

  “No. You’ve got this amazing woman who’s married you—accidentally
or not—and you’re already talking about leaving her. I think you’re crazy.”

  Sam turned away from Frankie. “I just can’t do it. I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust the desire to overpower her choices.”

  Frankie sighed. “I’m sure you’d be able to work it out.”

  Sam shook his head. “You don’t understand. That kind of power corrupts. Veronica never asked me to do anything bad in the beginning. It was only later that she started making me do terrible things.”

  “You’re different—”

  “No I’m not. None of us are.” Sam paced up and down the small space. “Have you found out anything new about Veronica?”

  Frankie shook his head. “Nothing useful. You’re welcome to look through a few of the documents if you like.”

  Sam nodded. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Frankie shrugged and gestured toward a computer. Sam sat down, started looking through the documents up on the screen.

  The next hour went past in silence except for the tapping of computer keys. Sam appreciated Frankie’s ability to be silent. It soothed his bruised soul and enabled him to focus on what he really needed to be doing. Now that he knew Celestine was safe, he could go back to his mission.

  Finding Veronica.

  He searched the online documents, sometimes shocked at the kind of information Frankie been able to unearth. Bank statements, Veronica’s birth certificate, old photos from before Marco was injured. It was all collected together, filed according to date.

  The more recent documents were sparse; Veronica had been focused on The Experiment. There hadn’t been much else happening in her life. Sam clicked the mouse and went back to the beginning again. He would find something useful. It was all he had to focus on now.

  He looked again at a photo of Veronica and her brother Marco. They were leaning against a car, smiling at each other in perfect sibling symmetry. He’d never seen Marco looking so whole and healthy before. He’d known him as a pale and lifeless invalid in Veronica’s back room.

  Sam leaned closer to look at Marco, trying to understand what he might have been like all those years ago. His arm was protectively around his younger sister’s shoulders, and she was gazing up at him in total hero worship. In the background was an old warehouse building with only part of the signage visible.

  Something clicked in the corner of his brain. The words on the sign were the last three letters of the next city over from Nampa: Boise. Could that warehouse still have something to do with Veronica? Could it be that easy? They had been certain that she was nearby and Celestine had said that Veronica had been holding him in a warehouse in one of her visions. “Frankie. I think I’m onto something,” he whispered hoarsely.

  He turned, only to find that Frankie had gone to bed and was gently snoring from across the room. Shrugging to himself, he pulled up a map, looking for industrial areas nearby. Then he clicked on street view.

  He would find that damn warehouse if it took him all night.

  Three hours later he stared down at the computer screen like it was showing him a picture of a poisonous snake. But instead it depicted the same warehouse from the old photo. Newer, with a few updates, but the same building.

  He stood and looked over at Frankie again. He was still sleeping soundly on his bed. He would have to wait until morning to get the computer genius’s help confirming his suspicions.

  Sam paced a couple of lengths up and down, then stopped. A sense of urgency was thrumming through his body. He couldn’t wait. He had to find out if this really was Veronica’s hide out.

  He scribbled a quick note to Frankie and crept out. Everything was deserted; it was the middle of the night. Only idiots like him were up.

  He headed to the parking lot, looking over the rows of vehicles. There were a couple of trucks for general Carnival-related errands. Jack had showed him where the keys were hidden, and he made quick work of getting inside the first beat-up old truck. He started the engine and winced when the engine roared across the silent lot.

  He quickly backed out before anyone decided to come check on the noise.

  It wasn’t a long drive to Boise, and he soon located the street. He pulled the truck into a spot outside the building, staring up through the dusty windshield. It was mostly dark outside, the early morning light only just starting to creep across the sky.

  The warehouse looked different from the photo, but something had pinged inside him when he pulled up. It was like an old muscle memory; something inside him could tell Veronica was close by. He shuddered. The thought that he was even a little bit connected to her made him feel dirty.

  If part of him was still connected to Veronica, then part of Celestine was also connected to her now. The thought made his hands clench around the wheel. He was going to destroy Veronica, so she could never harm other people again.

  He put the truck into gear and pulled away again, driving off down the street. He turned down a side street and parked the truck, pocketing the keys. Then he ran back to the warehouse, using the shadows as cover. He stood in the lee of the building next door for a long time, staring at the warehouse, trying to figure out what the best way in might be.

  He was no good at this kind of thing. He knew it. If he’d really been thinking about this little trip, he would have found a gun on his way out. Then he would have gone in, guns blazing, shooting everything in sight. The thought cheered him until he remembered that he didn’t have a gun and wouldn’t know how to use one if he did.

  But he could find out more information. He could get in and see what she was doing. It was unlikely that she was sleeping there, and it was still early morning. He could break in and confirm it was Veronica’s lair without her ever knowing.

  Creeping around the back of the warehouse building, he tried the main door, but it had a shiny new lock on some older chains through the handle.

  No getting in that way.

  There was a window higher up that might work, so Sam ferrited around and found an old drum; he rolled it over, placed it under the window and then clambered up. Cupping his hands around his face, he peered inside, but the window was too dirty and it was too dark for him to see anything useful.

  He climbed down and crept around to the other side of the building. There was another side door, this one just as carefully locked and bolted as the last one.

  He really had come on this mission completely unprepared. He didn’t think of himself as being impetuous or spur of the moment, but that really was the only way to describe it.

  Like he was trying to get himself killed.

  For the first time, it occurred to him to wonder what would happen to Celestine if he died. Would the power revert to her brothers? Or would it revert to her? It was a tantalising thought. What if he could set her free simply by leaving this world? A bright light seemed to glow inside his head for a moment. If he took Veronica with him while he did it, he would be saving two people’s lives.

  But he didn’t know if that was what would truly happen. He could be simply sending her back into slavery with her brothers.

  He resisted the temptation to rattle at the chains on the door and crept back around to the back. He climbed up on his oil drum and peered inside again, just in case something had changed.

  It hadn’t. His hands clenched into fists.

  The desire to do something, to change the lack of momentum in his explorations overwhelmed him. His skin felt as if he had a thousand ants crawling over it. A wave of frustrated emotion hit him, impetuous and sudden, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  Without thinking, Sam lifted his arm and smashed his elbow through the window. Glass shattered all around him and inside the building. The noise of hundreds of pieces of glass breaking and then hitting the concrete floors inside the warehouse seemed to echo across the still night air, and Sam regretted it immediately.

  But something urged him on and he kept going, pushing the rest of the old glass out of the sill, and onto the floor below. He peere
d inside, careful to keep his head away from the sharp glass edges. He couldn’t see much more than he’d been able to see through the glass.

  But now she was going to know that someone had been searching her warehouse property. Veronica was smart. She wouldn’t stick around here once she knew this location had been compromised.

  Sam swore.

  His spur of the moment action had probably just cost them the best lead they’d had on Veronica since she disappeared.

  Behind him, someone cleared their throat; the noise was loud in the quiet of the early morning. Sam jerked around, almost slipping off the drum in his haste. Below him stood a large man with short hair and tiny eyes, wearing a security uniform and holding a gun directed at Sam’s chest.

  “Slowly climb down off the barrel,” he said, his voice low and rough.

  Sam lifted his hands palm up. “Are you allowed to have a weapon like that?” he asked without thinking.

  “Are you going to get down? Or do you want me to shoot you to check if I have real bullets?” The man sneered, showing large white teeth.

  “Hold your horses,” said Sam. He made a show of climbing down the oil drum and came to stand in front of the guard, putting a contrite expression on his face. “I’m really sorry, I got a little carried away. I didn’t mean to break the window. I can replace it, if you’ll tell me who owns the building.” He smiled up at the guard, hoping against hope that the man wouldn’t take this any further.

  “Come with me.” The guard gestured with the gun for Sam to lead around the side of the building.

  Sam didn’t move. “Are you going to call the police?”

  “No need for the police. We can handle this ourselves,” said the guard.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You break something of ours, we break something of yours,” said the guard with obvious relish.