by Leanne Leeds
The cat raised its head and yawned. With a serpentine grace, he lifted his body to step away from me, walked two feet up the bed, and lowered his body back down into a sphinx-like position.
Well, at least he was awake and looking at me.
“Samson, I don’t really know what else to say. I don’t really understand what I did that made you so angry so I don’t know how to apologize for it or make it any better.”
Our bond is unlike any other bond between two creatures in the world, Samson sent imperiously. Opening up our bond to others is just not done. You desecrated our relationship.
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know, Samson,” I told him as I reached out to pet his head. Samson hissed as my fingers neared his nose and I pulled back. Oh, boy.
I wracked my brain for everything I knew and everything I understood about the cats back at the shelter to find some way to communicate to this omnipotent cat I valued him.
I stared into his eyes and slowly blinked.
Stop that, Samson snapped. You look ridiculous.
I slow blinked again and sighed a deep sigh.
You know how to do that, but you didn’t know not to open my voice up to your horse friend? Truly? Samson asked with more imperiousness tinged with incredulity.
“I truly didn’t realize Samson. With Uncle Phil having been murdered I really just felt it was easier for all of us to talk since we’re all trying to unravel what happened. It just kept me from playing go-between. I’m really, really sorry if I didn’t understand what it meant.”
You should not have to understand. Just know. Just feel. It just is, Samson told me as he stood up.
“I’m not singularly intuitive, Samson.”
Your very power is intuition! Before you were even the ringmaster! Samson spat as his fur puffed out from his body.
“Okay, I’m not magically intuitive. I can sense that you’re angry. Very angry with me. But that’s a simple emotion. I can’t sense a tie between us. That’s not a talent that I have.”
If a cat could roll its eyes, I would swear Samson rolled his eyes at me. He stood up with a flourish and walked across the bed to climb into my lap. As he settled in, one paw came to rest on my thigh. Samson extended his claws gently and dug his needle-like nails ever so slightly through the denim and into my flesh.
See who we are, he thought.
A vortex exploded within my mind. I threw my arms back and clutched the bed to steady myself from the dizzying onslaught. Images flashed one after the other like a rapid-fire slide-show.
Samson and I wrapped in a cocoon of twinkling pink and blue and white light, tendrils of silvery pink cords that spread all over the Midway and connected us to each inhabitant. Some cords stretched beyond the boundary to inhabitants that had left the Midway but were still bound magically to it.
Do you see? Samson asked. I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t answer.
The last picture revealed our bright cocoon with a thick silver cord jutted above us like a trunk to a dome of energy that spread out to encompass the entire Magical Midway. The dome shimmered and flickered and sparkled.
In the center of the dome, the image of the first ringmaster glowed with a blinding iridescence. Then there was another ringmaster, and another ringmaster. With each new conjuring of my ancestors, the loyal Samson’s image remained unchanging beside them all.
Just beyond Samson’s vision, I thought I glimpsed an image in the dome. A smiling face, so bright that I couldn’t look at it. Just as I thought I would finally glimpse it entirely, the vortex of energy and sound and light disappeared from my mind as quickly as it had overtaken it.
That is who we are, Samson told me as he lifted his head. We are linked. We are not we. We are not two. We are now one.
“I understand,” I gasped as I wiped the sweat from my brow (even though I didn’t completely understand). Despite not having moved, I felt as if I had just run a marathon. My heart pounded in my chest.
After a few silent minutes of deep breathing, my heart rate returned to a steady state, and I felt able to speak again. “Thank you for showing me that. I am really sorry. I know I need you in this, Samson. I’ll undo it. I just thought it would be easier.”
It is easier not to protect the bond, Samson told me. But a weak or breached relationship can put everything that you just saw at risk.
I nodded and reached down to caress the soft fur of the cat I understood a little better than before. Samson was snarky, and judgmental, and haughty, and a butt sometimes.
He was also two hundred years old or more and knew much more about this than I did. He knew what the face in the energy dome was while I did not understand how to even process what I had seen.
I whispered words to undo what I had done at the cauldron. I sensed the expansion snap like a bungee tendril of energy I snipped with scissors.
Thank you, Samson said, and he laid down his head on my lap. A soft purr emanated from him.
“Anytime,” I told him affectionately. “But when you’re done with your nap? We have a problem.”
It will still be there when I am done. I just need a few moments. Then we will deal with the latest catastrophe, Samson sighed.
When Samson was done re-bonding and cuddling, we did a quick cocoon around Dergal so he could hurt no one else. He then directed me to go find Fiona while he called Uncle Phil back to the yurt.
We gathered yet again in my Uncle’s living quarters. While Fiona could still hear Uncle Phil, she now could not listen to any of Samson’s communication.
“So at this point we know Jeannie said that Dergal took the cup,” I told them. “Dergal says he didn’t take the cup. Alessandra says that Dergal dragged her out of the weredeer party, Dergal says he was never at the weredeer party. By the way, Dergal is a violent jerk, so he moved to the top of the suspect list.”
“He is somewhat of a sleazeball, but I am curious as to why you have decided he is violent?” Fiona asked.
“I saw an argument between him and Stephanie, the satyress, and Alessandra, the blond naiad sister. Apparently, he’s dating both of them and lying to each woman that she’s the only one. What really concerned me, though, are the bruises on Alessandra’s arms. She says that he drug her out of the weredeer party, and Mark Botsworth interceded to get her away from him. I saw the bruises. They are really nasty. Bruises like that don’t happen by accident.”
“Anya is going to cut his b—well, she’s going to be very upset,” Fiona pointed out. I nodded in agreement.
“Anya was there when I talked to Alessandra. Let’s just say she wasn’t pleased.”
“I’m not pleased, either. However, I do not have steel-toed combat boots and a 7-inch hunting knife that says #timesup,” Fiona said. “Had Dergal physically abused her before?”
I shrugged in response. “I didn’t ask. It didn’t matter. It was enough he did it once.”
“True.”
“I am so surprised,” Uncle Phil said. “Dergal seemed like such a polite young man. And he’s a wonderful mechanic.”
Fiona and I peered sympathetically at each other and tried desperately not to roll our eyes.
“What? What did I say?”
“Uncle Phil, the fact that he seems polite and is a good mechanic has nothing to do with what we’re talking about. He didn’t seem friendly to me, by the way. He seemed like a snake.”
“But he’s such a handsome young man, all the girls seem to love him!”
“You know, Anya was really excited about having a woman as the ringmaster of the Magical Midway. I’m starting to see why,” I told Fiona as I leaned in toward her. She nodded knowingly and smiled patronizingly in the general direction of Uncle Phil’s disembodied voice.
“Since you’re dead now, Uncle Phil, Fiona and I will not give you a lecture or explain to you why you are not woke. If you were alive, though, we’d set aside a couple of hours.”
“I am awake. I’m not napping. I’m completely paying attention here!” Uncle Phil protested.
This time, I rolled my eyes.
I am woke, Samson interjected. Cats have had matriarchal societal structures for eons.
“Okay, enough. We’re getting sidetracked,” I told the assembled group. “Nothing I learned this afternoon gives me any more insight into why someone would kill Uncle Phil. But I had a thought as I was coming back from talking to the naiads. What if Uncle Phil wasn’t the target?”
“Come again?” Uncle Phil asked, surprised.
“According to Jeannie, Dergal had the cup. Dergal is clearly lying to us about something, and he’s not an honest guy. I saw the argument with Stephanie and Alessandra. I saw her bruises. I’ve also seen all this in less than a day. What if he did get the cup from Jeannie—but he wasn’t quick about bringing it to Uncle Phil’s tent?”
“You’re saying that maybe someone tried to poison Dergal,” Fiona said as she snapped her fingers. “That’s totally believable. I mean, I kind of want to kill him right now myself, and I didn’t see any of this with my own eyes.”
“It doesn’t explain why he is lying about being at the weredeer party, or why he’s lying about having the drink,” I said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Uncle Phil said.
“Then that’s the next thing we need to find out.”
Fiona and I left Uncle Phil and walked toward the Big Top. To my surprise, Samson hopped down off the bed and followed closely behind us as we sought the leader of the weredeers. Uncle Phil had explained that the weredeers were one of the more populous groups at the Midway, and Avalon was the alpha doe of the matriarchal group.
“There she is,” Fiona said as she pointed to a demure-looking woman seated under a canopy next to the entrance to the Big Top. Her pretty brown hair and pixie-like features were not particularly attention-getting, but her posture immediately drew my eye. Avalon seemed to be poised to bolt, and her eyes flicked around warily in all directions at regular intervals.
“Do all shapeshifters have some aspect of their creature natures in human form? It’s like she senses a hunting stand while foraging during deer season. She’s practically quivering.”
“Simple shapeshifters, yes.”
“As opposed to more complex shapeshifters?”
“As opposed to magical creatures that can shapeshift into an animal,” Fiona said with some exasperation. “A kelpie isn’t a shapeshifter. A kelpie is a kelpie, and we can shapeshift. Surely you know the difference, ya?”
“No.” Fiona stopped walking and stared at me, her mouth gaping.
“Come now, be serious, Charlotte,” she said.
“I am serious. Honestly, Fiona. I had no idea.”
Fiona poked me in the chest as she stepped close, and said accusingly: “All these years we’ve been friends, you thought I was simply some horse shapeshifter?”
“I guess I never really thought about it,” I told her as I carefully backed up. She stomped her foot loudly, and I did my best not to laugh at the very horselike expression of her annoyance. Fiona apparently would not be amused at my observation, and I decided my health might depend on my ability to keep some things to myself.
Wise choice, Samson projected.
Thank you, I thought back.
“Charlotte, you don’t seem to think about much,” Fiona said as she patted me on the head. “You have human air between the ears. Not even paranormal air. Human air. Uneducated human air.”
“OK, brainiac, tell me what I need to know before we talk to Avalon, then?”
“They are matriarchal, just like deer. They are skittish and nervous, just like deer. They are very shy, and their behavior can sometimes be difficult to predict. Though they feel secure here, they do live in a place with their natural predators so they never quite relax. You have to deal with them gently.”
“Even the alpha?”
“Especially the alpha. She’s the one that warns the herd away from danger. You can lose dozens of your best people because of a wrong word that freaks her out,” Fiona explained. “You get her to trust you, the herd will trust you. You don’t, they’ll all hide, or bolt.”
“Lovely.”
“Right now, you offer them protection, and so in theory, you have their unwavering loyalty,” Fiona said as we walked again. “Just don’t say anything that could be interpreted as an inability to protect them.”
“Got it.”
As we came up to the edge of the canopy, Fiona reached out a hand to slow my approach, and whispered “Avalon?”
The woman’s head snapped like a rubber-band on her neck toward us, and in the blink of an eye, she was on her feet, muscles tense. After a long pause, she relaxed her limbs only slightly. “Yes?”
“Avalon, this is Charlotte Astley. She’s the new ringmaster of Magical Midway.”
“I know that,” Avalon answered softly. Her eyes moved quickly toward me, and back to Fiona.
“I told her how important the weredeers are to the Midway and Charlotte wanted to come right away to meet the boss of such a talented and accomplished herd. She told me that we had to make absolutely sure you were happy with everything and that you didn’t have any concerns about the management change,” Fiona said to the nervous woman.
Your friend lies like a champion, Samson thought toward me.
Didn’t some people think kelpies were demons historically? Heck, are kelpies demons? I asked him.
Best not to ask too many questions like that, Samson thought back. Just remember, even paranormal creatures evolve.
I gulped.
“We’re fine,” Avalon responded as she flicked her eyes to me and then dropped them shyly. I nodded and smiled at the timid woman.
“I’m so glad,” I told her warmly, taking extraordinary care to keep my words soft. Which wasn’t something easy for me. I was kind of loud and direct. “I want to make sure that everyone will be staying on, and there’s nothing I can do for you.”
“You’ll do nothing for us?” The weredeer woman’s eyes grew wide and panicky, and she stepped back into the chair she had just been sitting on. It fell back with a thud, startling her even more.
“That’s not what I said!” I protested and stepped toward her. Aggressively, I realized too late. I raised my voice and stepped toward her aggressively. Which was stupid. A dumb, foolish move. That Fiona warned me about. And which I did anyway.
Because I’m an idiot.
In the time I took to freeze my advance, the terrified woman was gone. She exited the area so quickly that I didn’t even see her go.
Fiona stared at me, mouth agape. Silently, she raised her palms to either side of my head and flicked my ears in a most humiliating manner.
“Human. Air. Between. The ears,” she said with each flick of her finger.
“What now—never mind, I know. Ask the cat.”
Samson rubbed his face against my ankle and sneezed.
“What did you do to me, Ringmaster?” Dergal accused loudly as he stepped up on Fiona and me, banging into me so hard that I dropped the tumbler my mother had given me. We had been walking around the Midway searching for the place that the weredeer had withdrawn to when the angry centaur approached.
If they were anywhere close, they no doubt bolted when they heard Dergal’s booming anger.
“Hello, Dergal,” I said in as friendly a voice as I could muster toward a tall, muscled, bitter man that would put his hands on someone like Alessandra. Samson leaned his lithe body against my calf and wound himself around my legs while Fiona stared at him silently. “Just a little protection spell.”
“I can take care of myself,” he argued as he leaned over and grabbed my tumbler off the ground. “I don’t need a protection spell, so you can take this garbage from me right now.”
“I can’t really do that.”
“Of course you can. You’re the ringmaster. Do it!”
“Don’t give me orders, Dergal,” I snapped, losing my patience with him. A vague energy of approval surged quickly from my familiar even as Dergal advanced on me. “And you are ri
ght, I am capable of taking this off of you. I am choosing not to do so at this time.”
“You stupid, uppity—”
“What’s going on here?” Ningul, the centaur leader, asked as he walked over to the four of us in front of the Haunted House where he worked. “Dergal, this is no way to speak to the ringmaster! My apologies, Ringmaster.”
“She’s wrapped me in some kind of protection spell! I can’t do any of my work or hit anything with a hammer! I can’t even peel an orange!” The frustrated centaur shoved my tumbler back at me aggressively.
We may have been too vehement with that protection spell, Samson thought. Perhaps we should have been more specific about what he could and could not harm.
You know, Samson, I’m not feeling particularly guilty about going a bit overboard, I responded. In fact, I’m enjoying his lousy day just a little bit more than I should be.
You are the ringmaster, Samson snickered. I’m happy to follow your lead here.
“Maybe we should take this conversation off of the public thoroughfare and discuss the situation someplace that has a little more privacy?” I suggested as I noticed faces turning to watch the scene.
Ningul nodded, and we walked toward the Haunted House. Dergal followed reluctantly, his hands balled into fists and his face taut with anger.
Entering the front hallway of the Haunted House, I was delighted at the fancy Victorian decor despite the tense situation. The reception area had lovely antique sofas against every wall, and we all took a seat.
“Ningul, I have placed a protection spell around Dergal due to an accusation of aggression that resulted in injury, as well as some concern that he might be involved in the murder of my uncle.”
“Murder!” Ningul appeared shocked at my suggestion while Dergal slammed back on the velvet loveseat and slapped his knee as he sneered at me. “There must be some mistake.”
