by Leanne Leeds
Three dates were all it took for someone to lie about something important. Heck, at least fifty percent of prospective husbands got knocked out when, upon discovering I work at an animal shelter and rescue, they announced with enthusiasm they loved animals—and I knew instantly they were full of it.
In the human world, this lack of craft education, history, and training didn’t bother me. I lived like any other human that was able to tell that every mean girl was a liar and every charming boy was full of beans. I had my parents, though, and the constant ebb and flow of animals that needed help for companionship. I didn’t think about my complete ineptitude as a witch often.
For one week of the year with my uncle, though, I was in awe of the things I saw around me. For a small slice of time, I wondered what my life might have been if I had been raised to be a paranormal and not a human.
I almost never even knew of the Magical Midway. My uncle decided to fight for me to get a small peek into my heritage as an Astley. He was determined that I have at least a small taste of paranormal life.
He almost beat up my Dad to get it for me, too.
Uncle Phil and my father were as different as night and day. While my father was serious, studious, and scornful of the paranormal towns and enclaves that kept the “real” world out and the “fairy tale fake” world in (his words, not mine), my uncle was a big, boisterous showman that basked in the paranormal world. He could wave his plump hand or twirl his mustache, and a yurt would accommodate more inhabitants. Uncle Phil could rearrange the Midway, create a new circus set out of thin air, or manifest my favorite meal from my favorite coffee shop in Texas with a wave of his hand.
On my thirteenth birthday, he showed up to my party with a gift and an agenda. The gift was a dazzling crystal circus elephant. The agenda was to convince my parents I needed to create a bonding tie to the Magical Midway.
“You cannot cut her off, Alan,” my uncle proclaimed as he shook his finger at my father. “She has to know where she came from! Give her to me for summers so she can learn about the Midway. There are few of us left with the blood tie after I go, and they are all in this room.”
“She doesn’t need to understand the Midway, Phil. That’s your thing, not ours.”
“It’s our thing, our family business, you right stubborn old goat! The Midway pays for your mortal mission in life, or did you forget?”
“Gentleman, there is no need to raise your voices in the house,” my mother soothed as a wave of calm washed over the living room. “Let’s all discuss this calmly and rationally like adults. You’re sitting right across from one another, no need to shout.”
“Your husband is not rational, Martha,” Uncle Phil pointed out coolly to my mother as her wave of calm-the-heck—down reached him. “I’ll likely be around for years and years after all three of you are gone because of your stubborn determination to live this mortal life, but we should always be prepared for the unexpected.”
“Phil, stop that, you’ll scare the girl,” my father stated serenely.
Around and around they went for hours as calm as two Buddhist monks discussing nirvana while I sat on the floor and nibbled at my birthday cake until they agreed. One week a year, and only that, I would visit Uncle Phil at the Magical Midway so I could get a taste of life at the paranormal circus. I would do a job that didn’t involve learning any new magic, and I would not be allowed outside of the protection of the fairgrounds.
I was packing up for the seventeenth time, having spent a little over four months of my life at the Magical Midway. Leaving was always just a dash awkward, making me feel as if I had scratched the surface of something I would never understand.
Which was, again, conceivably Dad’s goal all along.
Samson wandered into my tent and hopped up on the bed. His eyes slow blinked as he watched me, and I scratched him behind the ear. “Until next year, Samson, huh?” The sleek black cat whined in response, and I felt a wave of longing hit me. “I know. I’ll miss you, too.” The wave of longing shifted into one of contentment as I sighed.
Time to go.
“I’m back!” I called into the house as I dropped my bags by the door. My mother’s Pomeranian, Puff, ran up to me on his teeny tiny legs and yipped while wagging his tiny tail. “Anyone here besides Puff?”
“On the back porch!” My mother’s face pressed against the kitchen screen as if shoving it that extra inch inside would ensure that I heard her. I breathed in the heady scent of charred burgers and my mouth watered as I made my way toward the back door.
“How was your week with Uncle Phil?” My mother wrapped her arms around me and pulled out a few strands of hay that traveled with me from Magical Midway. “I see you were working with the kelpies again.”
“Yep. The week was grand, same as always. Uncle Phil added a seer and a mentalist to the lineup, and a Haunted House. They moved from the Langdons about midway through the summer, and Fiona told me Langdon Circus disbanded. I didn’t get to meet them, though. Maybe next summer there will be even more folks, who knows.”
“The Langdons disbanded?” My father stepped onto the deck from the backyard and leaned over to give me a quick peck before sitting down at the picnic table. “Did Fiona tell you why?”
“No, but I imagine its the same issue with all the circuses. Everyone’s against circuses with animals now, so they probably ran out of money or something.”
“But there are no actual animals at any of the magical circuses.”
“Well, they can’t very well explain that to the humans, Alan,” my mother pointed out.
“No, I suppose not. I assume my brother is doing well?”
“You know, you could go visit him, Dad.”
“But then he would get me to set foot in that damned carnival of his. I’ve been winning the bet for twenty years now, and I’m not about to lose it now.”
“Oh, Alan,” my mother sighed as she walked back over to the barbecue to flip the sizzling burgers over. “You and Phil are so ridiculously stubborn.”
I picked up a sweet gherkin pickle from a bowl on the picnic table and popped it into my mouth as my parents teased each other. Looking out over the back deck toward the animal shelter that my family ran, I listened. There were far fewer dogs barking than there had been when I left.
“Where is everyone? I don’t hear the usual cacophony of barking coming from the cages.”
“Your father came up with a brilliant idea early this week, and its worked out magnificent. Alan, tell her!” My mother beamed at my father, and I suppressed a laugh as my father’s expression turned positively sheepish.
“Now, Martha, it wasn’t all my idea. Well, Charlie, we started a therapy dog training program for some dogs that couldn’t find homes. The trained dogs were donated to a program that provides therapy dogs to underprivileged children that needed them. We shortened the wait-list by forty-two!” My father smiled proudly.
“Wow. That’s great, Dad. I can’t believe you could get that done in such a short time. It sounds like half of the population is gone. How did you train so many dogs in a week? Doesn't therapy dog training take months of work with the dogs?”
“Well, we had major adoption days, too.” My mother raised her eyebrow at my father’s answer. “What, Martha?”
“Tell her how you got them trained so fast.”
“Now, Martha, there’s no need to—”
“Your father helped the dogs with a little magic.” Mom smiled and smacked my father’s hand like a naughty child as my father protested. “He worked hard to hide it from me, too.”
“I did not!”
“Dad, there’s nothing wrong with that. It helped the dogs, and it helped the kids, so what’s the problem?”
“I did not use actual magic!”
My mother laughed as she flipped the burgers and rolled her eyes. “He had a long talk with each dog to discuss the opportunities they would have and explained what they would need to do. After which, they all became cooperative and eag
er. Each dog passed the certification test in a single day.”
“That’s still not actual magic. And it was their own choice!”
“Which they could only make because you had the Dr. Doolittle magic ability and were able to explain what they needed to do.”
“Well, I didn’t have time to teach them all English,” Dad grumbled as he turned red and stood up.
“Dad, I think what you did was wonderful. The important thing is the outcome, right?”
My mother nodded. “That’s what I keep telling him.”
“Enough, you two. See, this is why I don’t tell you things.” My father kissed my mother on the cheek and swatted her behind before going back inside. The screen door slammed just enough for Dad to make a statement that he was slightly annoyed.
“It was funny,” my mother said as she closed the barbecue top and sat down next to me. “One morning I went out, and twenty dogs were all lined up with military-like precision in front of their cage doors. Sitting, no barking, just patiently waiting. I knew your father had talked to them. Well, that or it was the apocalypse.”
“Why is he so defensive? I mean, we’re not lifestylers, but we’re not anti-paranormal, either,” I glanced in the house to make sure he couldn’t overhear. “Dad’s never been so defensive about his talent before.”
“I think your father feels that the more he rejects his gifts, the less likely he’ll be called upon to use them in service to the Midway.”
“Uncle Phil would never step down or even want Dad there for anything more than a visit. He loves running the Magical Midway. I can’t picture him ever doing anything else.”
“Neither can I,” my mother agreed. She glanced over her shoulder into the house and leaned closer. “Your uncle has no wife, and no children, however. When a ringmaster leaves or takes an extended vacation, a new one must be chosen from the Astley bloodline. I suspect your father is trying to make sure he does nothing that would encourage your uncle to take an extended vacation or change careers.”
“It has to be an Astley? Who’s qualified to be considered?”
“Just you and your father right now. Unless your uncle finds someone and has children, you and your Dad are the only ones that could step into that role.”
“Well, what if we don’t? We can both just say no, right?”
“Then the Magical Midway is dissolved. That’s what likely happened to the Langdon Circus.” My mother glanced at the sky as she contemplated the Langdons demise. “The heir refused, or there was no heir and the magic that allowed the circus to operate dissipated when it wasn’t passed on. That would be my guess as to what happened. The familiar can only hold on to it for a certain amount of time before it burns them up. When they go, it goes.”
“Oh, wow. I had no idea.” I contemplated what would happen to all the paranormals that lived at the Magical Midway. Not to mention what would happen to the Astley Animal Shelter. Over 75% of our operating budget came from Magical Midway profit. They were able to magically manifest so many things a carnival would generally need to buy that the circus raked in the money.
“The circuses, like the paranormal towns, are old magic, Charlotte. No one knows how they came to be, or why they have such power to protect the inhabitants. The paranormal towns endure because the power that protects them is rooted to the land, but the Midway’s power anchors in a bloodline and a person. As people reject that life, there are no new nomadic paranormal fairs created to take their place. They disappear, the magic lost.”
“That’s really sad.” I wasn’t sure I could live always traveling, living in a yurt and always having all these weird paranormals around me all the time, but I loved Magical Midway. I loved that it was there for me, for all the people that loved living that life, and for all the humans that enjoyed visiting it. “Dad couldn’t do that. As much as he doesn’t like it, he couldn’t say no if he had to do it.”
“No.” Mom shook her head. “No, he couldn’t. And so he tries to reject magic, so Uncle Phil doesn’t get any ideas about asking him to step in—and, no doubt, as a way to pressure him to settle down and contribute to the next generation of Astleys. The Midway protects the ringmaster so Uncle Phil will be around a long, long time. I’m sure he’ll settle down, marry, and have children long before this is a real issue. For now, it’s just something for your Dad and Uncle Phil to argue about.”
“Uncle Phil was alive and kicking when I saw him, so we should have nothing to worry about.”
2
Mom surveyed the front entrance of the shelter and smiled. Candles glowed ominously in the lobby of the building, and Halloween decorations covered every square inch of the place. “We outdid ourselves this year,” she said excitedly. Mom skipped over toward the punch table and turned the paper skull just an inch to the right to maintain the perfection of symmetry that only she seemed to spot was slightly off.
“The place really does look awesome, Mom.”
Each Year, the Astley Animal Shelter put on Animal House, a cuddly alternative to the scary haunted houses that many younger children couldn’t participate in.
Families in Mickwac and the adjoining towns would come here every year and wander through “scary” rooms like the Perilous Puppy Room and the Cavernous Kitten Cave. Donations raised went to the shelter, and many animals went home with their forever families after our Halloween extravaganza.
“Oh, my!” My mother fell against the wall and steadied herself as she erupted in peals of laughter. “The animals are so excited that I have to block them out a bit just to think.”
“That’s good. I hope Fang here is excited.” I reached down and pet the three-year-old German Shepherd with a limp. “I think he’s going to find his forever home tonight.” Fang wagged his tail and barked, shoving a wave of happiness in my direction.
So many animals had come in, and out of our shelter over the years you would think I would’ve lost track of their memories as time passed. Each had such a distinct personality, though, that they made an indelible mark on my soul during their time with us. I could remember their names and their quirky little characters—and how happy they all were when they finally found families they loved that loved them back.
“Go check in the back and make sure that your father doesn’t need help with anything,” Mom directed as she continued pulling the tablecloth straight and moving plates one inch to the right or left to balance out the table.
Heading out toward the back of the central hall I snatched a carrot stick from a vegetable plate as I passed. My mother sighed as she made an immediate beeline to the table to fix the tower of carrot sticks.
The sun was setting as I set out on the dirt path toward the kennels that would, at least for tonight, serve as a decorated cuddle playground for over a hundred costumed children. Compatible dogs had been gathered together in large rooms waiting for the evening to begin. Even though none of the dogs had been with us the year before and none could know what would go on, they yipped and yapped and barked in excitement.
“Hey, Dad, is there anything I can help you with?” Fang squeezed his large body through the entry with me to ensure that he would miss nothing. Dad was scurrying around moving the bags of dog food behind a curtained alcove to hide the day-to-day reality of an animal shelter away from the fantasy of the evening. “Can I grab any of those bags?”
“Nope, I’ve got it,” he grunted as he slammed the last two bags on the pile. He pulled a purple curtain with black bats across the front and walked toward me to give me a hug. “Isn’t this far better than some circus? Helping real animals instead of putting on a show that’s all pretend?”
“The animals aren’t exactly fake at the circus, Dad,” I pointed out as we moved a bale of hay to create a pathway to the puppy room. “They just aren’t fully animals, like, all the time.”
Dad made a face and surveyed the kennels one more time, scanning to make sure nothing was out of place. If it was, he knew Mom would catch it, and he’d hear about it. Everything se
emed marvelous, and all the dogs were brushed, fed, and happy.
“Oh, I know.” Dad motioned for me to follow as he took off out of the dog kennels and walked toward the cat house. “I just can’t imagine that you would leave all this.”
“Wait, why would I leave all this?”
“No reason. I just had a weird dream last night. I’ve been having a few lately. Ignore me, kiddo. I get weird this time of year. Some witchy weirdness I can’t shake, I guess.”
As we walked toward the cat house, I glanced at my father while trying to understand the emotions I read from him. He was concerned about something, and there was a sense of foreboding emanating off of him. Whatever the dreams had been about, they were enough to make my ordinarily steady father’s energy feel stressed and confused.
Dad pushed the cat screen open, and we glanced around at the dozen or so cats and kittens that waited for the evening’s visitors. They were cats, so their level of excitement about crowds of people that evening did not mirror the joy and excitement of the dog kennels, but the room seemed to hold a heightened level of entitled anticipation that even I picked up on. Dad had let them know the humans would be coming to visit with salmon treats for them all, and that piqued their interest.
A fat white tabby, Snowball, meowed at me inquiringly as she shoved an anticipatory wave of desire at me forcefully. “No, Snowball, not yet. I don’t have any treats for you. They’ll be here soon.” The cat meowed disapprovingly and swished back to her favorite cushion in the corner while casting shade back in my direction.
“Ingrate,” I told her.
“I think we’re all ready,” Dad announced as he took a last look around. “Let’s go in and clean ourselves up. The volunteers should be here in half an hour.”
I nodded and headed for the door, giving the cat house one last look around. I loved all the cats staying with us, but if this year resembled the previous one nearly all of the cats in here would be leaving for their new homes within the next day or two. “Good luck, you guys!” I called as I walked out.
