by Leanne Leeds
“I don’t really know, Dad, how this all works. But he’s not here.”
“Ask the cat,” my father replied.
You know, I have a name. If we will be close family now, perhaps I would be more inclined to help you if you all stopped calling me the cat. My name is Samson. My name is not the cat, the cat… er, Samson said telepathically.
“I apologize, Samson,” my father said as he bowed toward the feline.
“The cat is already giving you lip, eh?” Fiona asked me.
“Can you not hear him?”
“I can only hear Samson because of my skill coupled with my bloodline, Charlie.” Dad scratched Samson behind his ears, and the cat purred loudly. “No one else on the Magical Midway will be able to hear his words to you, though I suspect that he can communicate with the weretigers and werelions.”
If I feel like it. I rarely feel like it, Samson responded as he swatted my father’s hand away.
“So, Samson, can you call Uncle Phil here?”
Your uncle is already here. I can, if you wish, make it so you can communicate with him and that he can communicate with you.
“OK.”
My father, Fiona, and I sat silently in the yurt and waited. I glanced around for the pink and blue shimmering that had encased the outline of my uncle before he had passed his power onto me, but I didn’t see it anywhere. The clock ticked the minutes away as the three of us held our breath waiting.
“Does it take a long time?” I asked Samson after three minutes.
No. It would only take seconds.
“Would only take?”
Yes. It would take seconds only after you asked.
“But I already asked.”
No, you didn’t, Sampson disagreed as he curled up on the bed.
“Yes, I did,” I insisted.
No, you did not.
I sighed in frustration as the cat closed its eyes and exhaled with contentment. Just what I needed, utter dependence on a small cat with a big attitude. “Samson, would you please allow me to speak with my uncle and allow my uncle to speak with me?”
My uncle’s visage shimmered in the center of the room next to Fiona. As soon as he solidified he chastised the cat. “Samson, that wasn’t very welcoming. I don’t want you giving Charlotte a hard time. You are supposed to be helping her, not making her life harder.”
You are not a ringmaster anymore, Samson thought as he opened one eye and stared at my uncle’s flickering face. What you want doesn’t concern me.
My uncle tsk-tsked the snarky little cat and turned. “Well, dear girl, I’m glad to see that you got the Magical Midway back to Earth without a problem.”
“It wasn’t that hard. Wait—Earth?” We weren’t on the planet anymore?
“It wasn’t that hard this time. The next two moves have already been set up for you, but the one after that will be a little bit more complicated.”
“Are you talking to your uncle?” my father asked. I scanned back and forth between my uncle and my father. No one else in the room was looking at him.
“They can’t see you?”
“No, my girl. Only you and Samson can communicate with me from the land of the living.” My uncle smiled sadly as he gazed at his brother on the bed. My father seemed to comprehend that Uncle Phil was beyond his reach as the ghost spoke.
“I can’t see him, can I?” my father whispered.
“No, Dad, I’m sorry. Only me and Samson.”
My father’s head dropped to his chest as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I thought I might get to see him again. Everything happened so fast during the ritual that I never told him that I loved him. And how much I would miss him. And how sorry I was that we didn’t spend more time together.”
“Tell your father that I loved him, too,” Uncle Phil told me quietly. “We will see each other again. Just not for a while.”
“He said he loved you, too, and you’ll see each other again.” My father hugged me and kissed my cheek, smoothing my hair from my face. Nodding, he leaned back and smiled sadly.
“At least you will get to spend time with him. Though I didn’t want this, now that it’s here I have to admit I envy you a bit. You are about to start on a wondrous adventure, Charlie. Do you want me to stay for a while?”
I shook my head no and stood up from the bed. “I think I need to do this on my own, Dad. You need to get back to Mom. She must be worried sick.”
“I suspect she knows this takes a while,” Dad smiled. “Any possibility I can get an express teleport back to the house, then?”
“Um. I don’t know. Can I do that?” I studied Uncle Phil, and he nodded.
“Yes, child, you can. You must ask me specifically to show you, and once you make the request, I can do so.”
Taking a deep breath, I asked Uncle Phil to show me how to send my father home to my mother. Uncle Phil directed me to put my hands on my father’s shoulders, close my eyes, and picture him back at home. Once I had that firmly in my mind, say the word home.
“If you need me, I’m here for you, Charlotte. I love you.”
“I know, Dad. Love you, too.” I hugged my father one last time, stepped back and placed my hand on his strong shoulders while picturing him at home with my mother and all the animals he loved. “Home,” I whispered in my hands fell in the air as my father disappeared.
“I don’t know what to do first,” I told Fiona and Uncle Phil as I stood in the center of the pavilion. “I don’t have any idea how to do this.”
“That’s why I’m here, my girl. Samson and I are here to make sure you don’t make too many mistakes and to help you with what you need to learn.”
Besides, I have your ringmaster training shield on. You won’t be able to kill anybody or relocate the Magical Midway to Egypt accidentally, Samson pointed out. As your familiar, I can keep you from doing too much damage. Well, any damage actually damaging. If it’s merely funny, I plan on letting you trip and fall on your face for my own amusement. Think of it as payment for the extra work you are about to put me through.
“Gee, thanks, Samson,” I told him with some exasperation. “Glad to know I can count on you to help me avoid murder but not humiliation.”
“Samson is your familiar, but he is still a cat,” Uncle Phil pointed out. “They’re not the kindest, most empathetic animals the universe ever manifested into being.”
“Can I trade him in for a dog familiar?”
“No.” Uncle Phil and Samson both said at the same moment.
“It is very odd standing in here with you and listening to a one-sided conversation. You sound downright crazy, Charlotte,” Fiona observed as she watched me carry on a conversation and question thin air.
“I think talking to myself might actually be more productive in this situation.”
“Yeah, I always thought being half animal was probably easier than having to work with a full one. And its a cat,” Fiona mused. “The big werecats are pleasant enough, but I’m not sure I would want to go and have a beer with them.”
“Don’t big cats actually, like, eat horses?”
“Bite your tongue, Ringmaster.”
“That still sounds so strange,” I told Fiona as I walked toward the flap that would lead me out into the Magical Midway. “It’s hard for me to believe that Uncle Phil is dead. Granted, that’s partly because he’s literally right here following us.”
“Has he told you what on earth happened to him? I thought nothing could harm the ringmaster until he chose a successor and decided to move on.”
“No, but what does that mean? How can someone not be able to be harmed?”
As we all stepped into the sunshine outside the yurt, Fiona slammed out with a fist and cold-cocked me. Her hand bounced off my face as if my features were encased in iron. There was even an odd metallic echo as if she hit solid metal armor. She then pushed me hard with both hands, and it felt as if anchors had grown from my feet and plunged into the earth beneath me. I stopped walking and stood, shocked.<
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“One night we should get some mead and test all the ways that you can’t be harmed. It might be quite amusing. Well, for me, anyway. You can no longer get drunk.”
“Wait, what?” I turned to Uncle Phil, who was nodding. “I can’t get tipsy anymore?”
“I would’ve thought the bulletproof aspect would’ve been more interesting to you, but no, you cannot get tipsy anymore,” Uncle Phil told me. “That would be dangerous for you and for the Magical Midway considering the power you now hold. So it’s not allowed.”
“This is starting to sound less fun,” I told him.
“You’re right, Charlotte. Incredible cosmic superpowers are simply not worth the trade-off of no longer being able to get giddy on champagne.” Fiona rolled her eyes. “You have nearly unlimited power. You’re almost completely indestructible. Quit complaining.”
“If I’m so indestructible how are you dead, Uncle Phil?”
“I still don’t know. I don’t see that it matters much. I am dead. Knowing how is not going to change anything.”
“He couldn’t be killed by magic, and he can’t be killed by force, so I think your uncle had to have been poisoned,” Fiona opined as we walked toward Hildegard’s kitchen. “Ringmasters can commit suicide, and the few that have chosen themselves to move on did it by poisoning themselves. That’s the only thing I can think of.”
“But Uncle Phil would’ve had to give it to himself, right?”
“Yes, because that technically would’ve made it self-inflicted.”
“That seems like one hell of a loophole.”
“No magic is perfect, your highness,” Fiona pointed out. “There’s always a loophole.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked Fiona as we walked.
“Circus School. This is pretty basic history. Everyone knows this stuff.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Everyone knows that, too.”
Stupendous.
As we walked into Hildegard’s, all conversations stopped along with any laughing, horseplay, and joviality. Cautious eyes stared back at me from every corner of the tent. Heads tipped in my direction with silent respect for the role I now held while each considered my new place in that role thoughtfully.
“Good morning!” I called cheerfully to the assembled paranormals. A low murmur responded to acknowledge my greeting. “Please, don’t stop your conversations on my account.” Whispered murmuring filled the tent as the forty or so paranormals leaned into one another.
“Great job, oh powerful leader,” Fiona commented sarcastically.
“Really?”
“No. No, not really,” Fiona said as she covered her face with her hands and sighed. Turning, she continued. “A speech would have been a good idea here. You only come here for one week a year, Charlotte. Most of these people don’t really know you. And you don’t know them.”
“Tell your friend there will be time for that later,” Uncle Phil said. “Right now, you know less than you should. Much, much less. Any speech you make will no doubt make that clear and only make those who depend on you more nervous. I suggest meeting everyone individually, so every group feels respected. There will be time for speeches later, my girl.”
“Okay, sounds like a good idea,” I answered, and relayed Uncle Phil’s advice to Fiona. With a grudging sigh, she agreed.
“You’ll want to get as much done as you can before the Council shows up, anyway,” Fiona pointed out.
“The Witches’ Council? I thought they just governed towns?”
“Let’s not worry about them for the moment,” Uncle Phil said as he hovered beside us. “We need to talk to the lares first.”
“The Larry brothers? The guys that do security?”
“Oh, this is where I leave you.” Fiona stepped away. “Those guys are creepy, and talking to you while you are talking to your Uncle is confusing. I need to talk to Doug anyway and let him know that you woke up. Though I suppose he figured that out based on the sunshine.”
“I’ll see you later, Fiona.” I watched my friend skip away toward the kelpies tent as she waved.
“The lares can be a little intimidating, Charlotte, but they are sworn to protect the Midway. It’s a good idea for you to make sure that you keep the lines of communication open with them,” Uncle Phil related as he floated beside me.
We made our way past the rides, pens, and games toward Magical Midway Security Station.
“Ringmaster,” the four Larry brothers said as they snapped to attention. Gallus, Lucius, Marcius and Julius Larry stood straight and tall in a precision line against the south wall of the security station.
“Hey, yo, Charlotte!” Bob Larry called from his perch atop the counter. “Thrilling trip back to the land of the sunshine! I didn’t feel, like, a single bump or anything. Score!” He threw his arms up to mimic a goalpost.
I glanced at the four Roman guards staring into space with implacable faces and turned back to the fifth Roman guard casually draped across the dividing ledge between the front and back of the station. Bob’s uniform was wrinkled and untucked as he bit into a red apple and dribbled juice across the front of his shirt.
“Bob is… special,” my uncle confided.
“Special as in…?”
“Not what you would expect from lares guards,” Uncle Phil continued. “Gallus, Lucius, Marcius, and Julius are all typical lares. Bob has chosen to explore a more… modern side of his personality.”
“You talkin’ to your uncle? He telling you about what a star Lar I am? Get it? Star Lar? Aw, man, I crack myself up,” Bob hit the counter as he laughed uproariously at his own joke. I raised my eyebrow.
“Aren’t lares supposed to be very serious and intimidating and all that?”
“Yes,” the four severe Larry brothers barked out without moving a muscle.
“Hey, now! We all get to choose who we want to be. I learned that at ‘The Best Better You’ seminar I took once at a hotel in Rhode Island. Changed my life for just $995! I choose to be happy because if I’m not going to make myself happy, who’s gonna do it for me? Am I right? Of course, I’m right,” Bob nodded and took another bite out of his apple, dribbling more juice down the front of his uniform.
“Um. Stellar,” I answered. I glanced back at my uncle and then turned to the five brothers. “So you guys are like the police force of the Midway?”
“Yes,” the four severe Larry brothers barked out.
“Kinda. We’re, like, all around protection. We protect people, places, roads, lakes. We can protect trees. Houses. Yurts. You want it protected, we can protect it. We can protect events, too! We also make delicious Italian food from scratch,” Bob told me proudly.
“So, who is in charge of the investigation?”
The Larry brothers glanced at each other in confusion.
“Like, after a crime is committed, which one of you guys is the one who would go look into how that crime was committed and catch the perpetrator?”
“We protect things,” Bob repeated again slowly as if I had not understood him the first time. “If something wasn’t protected, that’s just, like, life, man. Gotta accept things and move forward from them, ya know? Always something else to protect.”
“I get that. Really, I do. What I am trying to understand is who investigates crimes? Like my uncle’s murder?”
The Larry brothers glanced at each other again in confusion as if I was speaking a foreign language.
“Maybe, like, the fortune teller could do that?” Bob asked hopefully. I stared at him and waited for him to laugh at the joke, but he didn’t.
“Is there any other law enforcement besides you guys at the Magical Midway?”
“Yes,” Julius Larry nodded once.
“You,” Marcius Larry told me.
4
“So, I’m the head investigator and judge and cop and everything?” I asked the shimmering ghost of my smiling uncle when we were back in his yurt. “I don’t have any experience investigating a murd
er!”
“You don’t have any experience with anything in the Magical Midway other than walking through it and looking pretty, my girl,” Uncle Phil pointed out as he hovered over the bed. Uncle Phil’s smile continued full and amused with no particular indication of concern.
It figures.
What did he have to worry about? He’s dead. He doesn’t have to deal with these problems anymore other than as an ephemeral observer and magical Dear Abby.
“Why are you sitting on the bed? Can you even sit as a ghost?”
“Habit, my dear girl,” Uncle Phil said as he patted the area next to him. “Come sit next to me and let’s talk about this. You look like you might faint.”
I paced back and forth in the center of the room pausing periodically to glare skeptically at my uncle. The confidence I felt about taking over the Magical Midway had all but disappeared in the morning light. I mean, Fiona knew more about my role than I did from paranormal elementary school. That wasn’t inspiring self-confidence.
I wondered whether the feeling I could handle this when we were standing in the bubble was my own, or if it had been some side effect of the magic that transferred my uncle’s considerable power. As the tingling of the magical energy settled within my body, my unease rose.
“Stop patting the bed like you’re actually touching anything. Pacing back and forth works just fine for me at the moment, thank you very much,” I said. Uncle Phil smiled and waited for me to get my fidgety panic attack under control.
I told you that you should have chosen her father, Samson thought toward my uncle.
“Are you supposed to be my familiar now? Doesn’t support and help come with that?” I asked the cat.
Emotional support is not on my list of obligations, no, Samson answered. Had supporting Astleys emotionally been on my list of familiar commitments, I likely would have found the nearest werewolf and asked him to eat me a long time ago.
“Charlotte, if you couldn’t do this, the power would not have passed to you,” Uncle Phil said as his sunny smile faded and his expression turned more serious. “I have been where you are. I do understand how overwhelming this is, and I promise you that we can get through it together.”
