The Curious Case of Simon Todd

by Vanessa C. Hawkins

  Simon stuck his nose in the air, closing his eyes. “I’ve nothing improper on my mind,” he said, standing from his bed, “about anyone.” He wondered what Miss Baxter was doing now. Earlier on the upper deck, Fae had been throwing dice with a few of the carnival vendors, betting with food portions. Both ladies stayed in a different cabin, which was a bit larger than the one the three men adorned. While the men had the small bunkers, Fae and Miss Baxter had a room to themselves. It was closer to Manny’s own chambers with a wooden tub in it for bathing. Simon could almost envision Miss Baxter, with her creamy skin and honeyed hair, bathing in milk with fresh petals thrown in for scent.

  Cleo laughed as Simon grabbed his coat. “Are you going out, love?”

  “It’s too stuffy in here,” he said, thinking he might seek out the young lady for a bit of conversation.

  “Well, be careful, the full moon’s out tonight.”

  “What’s that mean?” Simon asked, adjusting his collar and smoothing down his hair on his way out.

  Cleo looked up, eyes gleaming impishly. She had on a black, silk shift with a necklace of a man’s profile. “A full moon means mischief in the Circus, dear.” The older woman looked down, watching her needles dart in and out of thick, red string. “Puts demons in us, is all. Just be careful.”

  Simon watched her apprehensively, his eyes wide and concerned. Turning on his heel he left without another moment’s hesitation, saying nothing more to her about the matter. It had been six days since they had left the road to travel in these walking steam factories. Simon was hurting for a bit of air. Though for the most part his companions had been enjoying their free meals and leisure time, Simon was becoming restless.

  “Oooh, Mr. Todd?” Simon bit his lip as he walked past Cherie’s boudoir. The entirety of the living quarters were made of long, wooden halls all hammered together with copper nails. It was quite claustrophobic at times, and the thinness of the walls made it easy to hear through them, which was, obviously, why Cleo had mistaken him for eavesdropping.

  Simon stopped at the door when the young lady called again. The large cherry wooden structure was held slightly ajar with a ballerina slipper, but Cherie herself was seemingly inside. Simon regarded the silk ribbons from her shoe as they pooled like rivers from the doorway.

  “I’m a bit busy this moment,” he said, pulling out his pocket watch. It was nighttime, but not of the hour that would insinuate his hallway exploits were anything but pure.

  “Would you not come here a moment? I am so very sorry, but I fear Mister Dashing has left to polish his handgun and I am unable to help myself.”

  Simon frowned, exhaling through his nose in a huff. “I really need…”

  “It will take but a moment,” she said, her exotic accent disarming.

  Sighing, Simon stuffed his watch back into this pocket, pushing through the door into her chambers.

  It was a dark space, filled with candles and lush red velvet curtains that gave the impression the room was circular. Her bed, a large, polished oak frame with satin sheets, took up the far side of one wall and was surrounded in red and black checkered curtains. She had more than a dozen porcelain dolls all bearing the likeliness of a clown, staring at him from across the room with glass eyes. Cherie herself was sitting in a porcelain basin, long legs dangling out the end like shapely columns as water bubbled like champagne all around her. Simon blushed when he saw her, and turned hastily to avert his eyes.

  “You are so amusing!” She laughed, water splashing as she moved towards the side of the tub, folding her arms together to rest her head between them. “Are you shy of a woman’s body, mon cher?”

  “I beg your pardon! It’s not proper for me to be here. I-I shall leave at once.” The heat of the room was already quite stifling. Simon felt as though it were hanging around his neck like a noose.

  “Non!” Again, the bath water splashed. “Don’t leave.” When Mr. Todd refrained from taking another step, Cherie settled back into the water. “You wouldn’t have a naked girl chasing after you, now would you Mister Todd?”

  Simon felt a bead of sweat falling down the slope of his forehead. He blinked thrice, rapidly, before sighing again. “What is it you want, Miss? This really isn’t…the proper way to have a conversation.”

  “Non? Perhaps.” The girl laughed. “But I was just curious about a thing or two.”

  Simon studied his shoes, keeping his hand steady against the side of his face just in case the girl decided to get up from the tub. “I assure you, I have nothing curious about me.”

  “Well, that’s certainly not true. I can tell by looking at you that you’re not, as they say, all there.”

  Simon bit his lip, absently looking at his fingers as they waved easily in and out of their physical form. It had taken him a few days to master it, but Simon was confident he was getting better at controlling how corporeal and incorporeal he could be. But, was she talking about him being a ghost? If she was, how did she know? This was really the first time they had spoken, and Simon hadn’t practiced his phantom talent anywhere but in his bed with the curtains closed over his bunk at night.

  Alright, well, did she know? Simon needed to know more.

  “What are you talk…I mean. I don’t understand,” he said, slowly turning his back towards her.

  Cherie laughed, turning in the basin to lie on her back. Bubbles floated up into the air, and she swatted at them with her toes, small breasts covered in lather.

  “You are a lost soul, like us. A ghost, mon cher! It is easy to see when you are of a similar kind.”

  Simon licked his lips. “It’s not- I mean, you mustn’t tell…” The bathwater splashed again, and Simon was reminded of Miss Baxter, soaking in her own boudoir as he peered through her window like a deviant. He hadn’t really known she would be there. He had been checking on her for days after she left for her assembly at the University. He wanted to find out when she returned so he could show up with pie for her father. When he had seen her bathing however, he was so enchanted by her appearance that he lingered for far longer than was proper.

  “I won’t tell, Mister Todd.”

  Simon leapt into the air as Cherie caressed his shoulders, suddenly beside him. He turned to regard her then spun round again after having turned a bright crimson.

  “Seven hells!” he cried, finding himself quite dumbfounded. So muddled was Mr. Todd’s mind that in his effort to turn around he had gotten too turned around, and couldn’t find the door. After a moment or two of confused pivoting, Simon was facing the wall of porcelain clown dolls, farther from the exit than he had been upon first entering.

  “Miss Cherie, a robe!”

  The short-haired girl was laughing. “I am blocking the exit now. You won’t be able to escape me until I’ve had my questions answered.”

  Simon nodded, seeing the girl’s reflection cast in the glassy eyes of the figurines. “Yes! Yes I’m a…” he lowered his voice, speaking in a relatively loud whisper. “A ghost. I’m not sure why but you mustn’t tell the others. You mustn’t! It’s all rather a…” he hesitated, feeling anxious and quite cornered, “it’s a hairy situation is all, and I would rather avoid speaking of it until the time is right.”

  From behind him the girl was still chuckling. Unfazed by her own nudity, Cherie floated towards a cabinet, opening a cupboard to remove a very ornate jar. “I won’t tell anyone, cher,” she said, going back to the tub as he turned back towards the exit. “I just wanted to ask you what it is you like in a woman.”

  Simon was perplexed. “Why?” he said, exacerbated. Surely the girl wasn’t interested in him.

  “I abhor cats,” she said, “and I hear curiosity is quite good at slaying them.” Idly leaning back into the basin, Cherie opened the ornate jar, slipping the domed lid off to clink on the wooden floor.

  Simon stumbled. “Well I… uh… I like short girls!” he said, thinking up anything that would be unlike the young Cherie. “Girls who have,” he bit his lip, “girls who wear
bonnets and long dresses.” That was more like the truth, he supposed.

  “Oh?” Sticking her finger into the jar she pulled out one long wriggling leech. Black like oil, it was sticky, swimming with its brethren in a pool of blood. “A bonnet? She sounds sweet.”

  “Yes. Very sweet. I like a short, bonnet-clad, be-dressed girl who hates high places.”

  “I suppose nothing’s perfect,” she mused.

  Hearing the splash of water again, Simon grew more unsettled. He could smell the perfume of the bathwater as it was disturbed. The scent crawled up his nose like a loose hair. Simon dug into his pocket for his kerchief, only to realize a moment later he had left it in his other suit. “Is this interrogation over? I really must be going!” He sniffed, holding a finger to his nose.

  “Yes.” Cherie waved. “Go.”

  Simon closed his eyes, feeling like he were about to sneeze.

  “If you find Mister Dashing, tell him to abandon all thought of seeing me tonight. Manny, our magnificent, always comes on the full moon. He is quite jealous too. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to your close friend.”

  Simon turned, eyes all watery. Already he could feel something gathering in his nose. The sensation brought a sudden skip to his heartbeat when a moment later he sneezed.

  “ACHOO!”

  Spiders. Small eight-legged abominations spewed from his nose. Simon screamed as they darted over his fingers, along the cuffs of his suit and down his torso. He put a hand over his eyes as he bolted from the room, swatting pathetically at his clothes in an effort to refrain from removing them.

  Pulling another leech from the jar, Cherie regarded Simon as he left, curious about the several crawling creatures now skittering about her floor. The ghastly little buggers were everywhere.

  Cherie laughed as she plucked another wriggling worm from the jar and ate it. “There you go, ma cher.” She was a bit curious as to how all those little spiders had come into her room, but thought they must have accompanied her guest. “That wasn’t very nice of you mind, that little prank, but you’ve got what you wanted… Mr. Todd’s carnal desires.” Cherie laughed, kicking up another leg as she regarded the woman in the corner. “They are certainly boring, but easily accomplished.” Dipping her head beneath the water and liking the way the liquid filled her ears, Cherie stayed under until she thought her lungs would burst. Surfacing, she gulped in a mouthful of air and smiled at the figure in the corner.

  “So, no need to stow away next time, mon ami. We are all friends here, eventually.”

  Chapter 13

  One Steep Forward Two Steeps Back

  “Miss Baxter?” The young lady had been on deck when Simon arrived, dressed in a thick gown and jacket to shield against the wind. The clatter of mechanical joints and hissing steam echoed around them, though Simon was glad to see they were indeed alone.

  Miss Baxter had turned when he called, a blanket pulled across her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a bonnet, but rather a decorated braid spun around a tidy bun, illuminated by the moon. The steamy breath of the elephanti exhaled all around them. It shrouded the deck in an effervescent light, reflecting the moon lit sky just enough to pick out shapes around them.

  Simon thought Miss Baxter looked beautiful in the mist with the sky and plains lands stretching out into obscurity behind her. “Simon?”

  Again; the name. Whenever she said his first name it always sent phantom fingers dancing down his spine. Simon smiled, stepping forward through the fog. He had changed into the same suit he wore back in Piper’s Toss: a grey jacket and slacks, over a maroon vest. It had been freshly laundered a few days ago and mended by Cleo. Simon had thanked her profusely as he put it on, finding it fit him even better than it had before.

  “Are you not cold?” he asked, feeling the cool night air whispering against his skin.

  “I…” She stumbled over her words, obviously caught off guard.

  Simon peered past her, seeing nothing but the dark blanket of grasslands. “Is something the matter?” He moved toward her. The deck of the automaton was more like a sunken, wooden stage. Hardwood had been inserted into the curve of the mechanical creature much like a subtle dip in a wooden plate. It was more a prevention measure for anyone who stepped too close to the side, meaning that Simon’s concerns of Dashing’s demise were for the most part, unfounded.

  Mr. Todd was concerned when Miss Baxter tilted her head, focusing on the shaft of her ivory shepherd’s crook. She looked somewhat perplexed, if not entirely worried.

  “Miss Baxter?”

  Again she looked at him, her eyes catching the moonlight. “I don’t think…” She pursed her lips, obviously struggling with the notion of sharing her thoughts.

  “Yes?” Simon leaned forward.

  Miss Baxter turned away, looking out once again at the darkness below. “I don’t think we are going the right way.”

  Simon tipped his head back. “What makes you say that?” he said, moving beside her to regard the ground from a similar viewpoint. “Everything looked fine yesterday.” He could only see the night, though Simon recalled seeing more signs of Birdwood just this afternoon when Fae had been gambling.

  Miss Baxter nodded in compliance. “Yes, everything was fine, but tonight, I’m not so sure.”

  They stood at the rear of the elephanti, looking out over the Great Plains as it slipped from under them. A little ways off it was easy to see the third circus contraption breathing smoke in the distance behind them. “Look. There are no more trees. No hills or even tall weeds. It’s like we’re walking on a game board.”

  Simon leant over, peering past the machine’s hindquarters. The edge of its back came up to his waist, so Simon had to pick himself up and lean over with his legs off the ground.

  It did look rather odd, though it was hard to say whether it was only due to the darkness and shadows pervading the night. The elephanti didn’t however, seem to be leaving behind any trail or imprint in its wake, and one thing that was for certain was that they had certainly veered off the road. It didn’t appear to be anywhere close.

  “It is… rather dark,” he said finally, standing back and scratching his head. There was another tickle in his nose as he sniffed past the steam in the air. Retrieving his handkerchief, he held it to his face in an attempt to stifle a sneeze.

  “I don’t think Sir Manny is taking us where we need to go. I don’t think we are heading to Ebonguard.”

  Simon could hear the dread of her words thicken in his veins. “R-really?”

  She nodded. “No. And I don’t think Manny is human either.”

  Simon bit his lip. This wasn’t the conversation he had intended to have with Miss Baxter.

  “Why do you…?” He blinked, his mind conjuring up all sorts of images regarding the uncanny ringmaster. “What do you think he is?”

  “Nothing good.” She looked down, as though troubled to say something untoward about anyone. “But I think, whatever he is, he knows magic. How else could he have gotten over the desert? Or be doing this?” She gestured over the side, smooth hands covered in lacy gloves.

  Simon chewed the inside of his lip. “Do you think he is a part of the mafia? Working with Grimguild or those other two ragamuffins?”

  Miss Baxter shook her head. “No. If he was, we wouldn’t be heading away from Birdwood, and certainly, if he is so powerful as to be able to ward off a dragon, we would have been there by now.” She pressed a finger to her chin, her eyes thoughtful. “I think I should have a word with him.”

  “What?” Simon took her arm, blocking her path though she hadn’t yet moved. “You can’t do that! If he is some sort of high powerful magic…thing, then you certainly shouldn’t antagonize him.”

  Miss Baxter nodded. “What should we do then, Mr. Todd? We can’t just stay here and see where we end up.”

  Simon pressed his lips into a thin line, willing himself to think of some kind of plan to outwit the wily ringmaster without calling his wrath down on them. Mr. Todd certainly
didn’t doubt Miss Baxter’s suspicions, she was after all more acquainted with sorcery than he could ever feign to be, and above all, Simon was quite certain she would not have raised these qualms about him unless she had been at least almost entirely convinced.

  “Alright, well,” he sucked in a deep breath through his nose, “Why don’t you let me speak with him.”

  “By yourself?” she asked.

  Simon swallowed.

  “No. You’re the sorceress. You should…come with me. Not to protect me but to ensure that he is quite cornered. He will be less likely to do something if we are both there.”

  “What about Mr. Dashing?” she asked.

  Simon inwardly groaned. “No, let’s not bother the others just in case. If we all go, Manny may think we are ganging up on him and do something rash. If it’s just us,” he liked referring to himself and Miss Baxter as a combined pronoun, “then it’s less intimidating. And if he does do something we can always rely on the others to help us out.” At least, Simon hoped.

  Miss Baxter smiled, pressing the shaft of her crook to her breast. “That’s quite clever, Mr. Todd.” Her eyes were still reflecting the moon.

  Simon blushed, glad for the nightly veil to obscure his features as he clumsily stammered out a reply. “Well, uh,” he turned to the side, looking at the deck as he gestured with his hand, “s-should we go then?”

  Miss Baxter nodded, filling with resolve. “Yes.” Then, after a few steps, she turned, smiling. “I’m not worried Simon Todd, I know you’ll protect me.”

  Bless Miss Baxter, he thought, strolling after her. She sure made a gentleman feel macho, even if he was just thinking the same thing about her.

  “Alright well,” he began, trying to convey some sense of manliness, “after me, then.” He strode past her and opened the hatch into the inner guts of the automated behemoth and was greeted by a crowd of manic rapscallions!

  “We’ve got ya now, Mr. Todd!” A decorated jester howled, picking the poor Frelish man up as a hoard of carnival madmen poured out over the deck.