by Leanne Leeds
“I don’t mean a person, I mean we're missing some piece of information. I think we need to talk to Mark Botsworth. He saw whatever happened between Alessandra and Dergal. I’d like to know exactly what it is that he saw.”
“I’m coming with you,” Anya said.
“I as well,” Fortuna said quietly. I jumped, shocked that she was still in the room. The tiny woman in the layers of peasant shirts and skirts had been astoundingly quiet during all the interesting interaction. “I came with Mark from the Langdon Circus, so I know him. It would likely be more comfortable for him to see a friendly face.”
“I have a friendly face!” Anya argued as she balled her fists up.
“Very friendly,” I assured her. “But Fortuna’s right. Let’s make sure he doesn’t feel like the cavalry is coming to attack him.” She will also be useful if Mark Botsworth turns out to be less than forthcoming.
We left Ningul in the skillful hands of the consoling Fiona, and I did my best not to roll my eyes on our way out.
As Anya, Fortuna, and I stepped out of the communications yurt and began the short walk toward the mentalist’s stick joint we walked smack into a gigantic, jiggling giant of a man.
“Well, I can sense the new ringmaster standing right in front of me!” the man bellowed as he grabbed my hand roughly and pumped it while slapping my shoulder. “Power speaks to power, little girl, and I can certainly feel yours struggling to wrap itself around you. Doesn’t quite fit, does it?”
Little girl. Oh, great. A man that thinks a nearly thirty year old woman should be classified as a child. What is it with the paranormal world and misogyny?
I yanked my hand from his and stepped back. The man had all the earmarks of a ringmaster on a 1920s circus poster. With a black top hat, red jacket, white shirt, black pants and shiny black boots he was the picture of a ringmaster stereotype. His handlebar mustache came out two inches into the air just under his chubby apple cheeks. His smile, however, didn’t reach his eyes and I was immediately on guard.
“Dad, do you have to talk like you’re in some 1950s circus drama? Ms. Astley, I am Gunther Makepeace, and this is my father, Roland Makepeace. We traveled here to introduce ourselves. My father is the current ringmaster of the Makepeace Family Circus.” Gunther Makepeace stepped forward politely and extended his hand, waiting for me to take it. I did, and we shook firmly but gently.
“It’s nice to meet you, Gunther. Please, call me Charlotte,” I answered. Gunther’s hair was the lightest of blond, and his eyes were a deep emerald green. He was at least six inches taller than I was and his physique rivaled the centaurs. There was something about him, some energy that made me feel instantly at ease.
As opposed to his father, who repulsed me. Just a little.
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, little girl, tell me how much would you like to sell the Magical Midway for?” Roland Makepeace said as he pushed his son out of the way. Gunther lowered his eyes and shook his head. “Surely a civilized girl like you doesn’t want to be stuck running a run down place like this.”
“Mr. Makepeace, as you can tell, I am running a place like this. I have no interest in selling. I don’t even know how you would sell something like… this place.”
“Well, you would take the money, and we would take the circus. And your cat, of course.”
Don’t you have anything to say about this jerk? I thought to Sampson. Without answering, Samson leaped to my shoulder and settled in like a parrot. As he purred, a tiny head peeked out of Gunther’s pocket to stare at him.
“No, Delilah, go back in the pocket. Go on, sweetie,” Gunther said as he tapped the tiny kitten down.
“Your familiar is named Delilah? I mean, it is your familiar, right?”
“Yes,” Gunther left as he patted his pocket. “When she first showed up she would sleep on the top of my pillow and lick my head. She also chewed on my hair. So I thought Delilah was a good name for her.”
“Samson,” I said as I pointed to my shoulder.
“Your familiar—his name is Samson?” Gunther asked, laughing.
“I kid you not. Samson and Delilah. What a weird coincidence, huh?”
Yes, what a strange coincidence, Samson thought sarcastically.
“Son, the new ringmaster and I have business to discuss,” Roland Makepeace told Gunther sternly, shoving him roughly to the side. As his father stepped slightly in front of him again, Gunther winked at me and mouthed I’m sorry. I smiled even more broadly.
He’s going to be the next ringmaster, Samson warned me. Don’t even think about it.
I’m not thinking about anything. Gunther is cute, I’ll give you that. And he’s got a kitten which, no offense to you or anything, is just adorable. And nothing is cuter than a sexy guy with a sweet kitten. But I’m not thinking about anything.
Uh huh, Samson answered unconvincingly.
“Yes, Gunther, your father and I should discuss what price he wants for the Makepeace Circus,” I said as Anya stifled a laugh behind me.
“What? Me sell you our family circus? Are you daft, girl? How horrible! Insulting! Mockery of my family’s legacy! I’ve never been so offended in my life!” The big man huffed and panted his indignation as I struggled to keep a straight face. Since Gunther was standing behind his father, he could laugh silently. Which he did.
“I mean, obviously. Obviously, I must be kidding. Clearly, a ringmaster would never consider selling their family legacy! The ancestors would come rushing out of their graves in protest! That would be unheard of, wouldn’t it?” I fluttered my eyelashes at the fat man as he caught on to my passive aggressive insult.
“You are not a very nice little girl,” Ringmaster Makepeace snapped at me. “Gunther, we have done our duty. Let us leave this filthy place with these substandard facilities.” The big man turned on his heel and walked toward the entrance like he was dragging the Midway.
“I apologize for my father,” Gunther said as he reached out his hand and grabbed mine again. “He really isn’t as horrible as he seems. He’s from another time. Dad had me very late in life, and sometimes I feel like we are separated by more generations than just one.”
“It’s okay, really. My uncle was like that. Well, not as bad as that.”
“Oh, I’m sure he is still like that,” Gunther laughed. “It’s only been a day. I knew your uncle. There is no way he left you alone with the Midway this fast.” I smiled.
“No. No, he hasn’t,” I answered. Gunther and I continued to clasp hands for no particular reason I could discern. Neither of us seemed uncomfortable that it had gone on too long. I felt like I should want to pull away, and yet I didn’t. His hands were soft and warm.
“Anyway, I think you are,” he said and smiled again.
“I’m what?”
“Nice. You seem like a very nice young woman. I hope I get to see you sometime when my father is not trying to manipulate you into giving up your family legacy,” Gunther gave my hand one last squeeze and then let go. He bowed and turned to follow his father down the Midway.
“That boy has one of the tightest—”
“Anya!” Fortuna gasped.
“What? Tightest handshakes! I was gonna say handshakes! What did you think I was gonna say?” Anya exclaimed innocently.
“You were not going to say handshakes,” Fortuna chastised her. “You weren’t watching his tight handshake walk down the Midway in those tight black pants.”
“No, I most certainly was not,” Anya said as she fanned herself. “I don’t think it matters much anyway. Gunther was hard flashing Charlotte but good.”
“Hard flashing?” I asked, confused.
“At carnivals, hard flash is the large and expensive looking prize,” Anya explained. “A lot of times, they are absolutely impossible to win. Gunther was looking at you like you were hard flash, Charlotte, and he was ready to buy a ticket to play.”
I blushed and shook my head no. “You’re dreaming. He was just being friendly, trying
to cover for his rude Dad, I think.” I turned back toward the Midway and strained my eyes to see if Gunther was still there. “How would we even call?”
“They have cauldrons,” Fortuna pointed out. “Besides, that Samson and Delilah thing. I mean, you have to go out with the guy if he asks now.”
“You remember how that ended, right? Guys, someone might be trying to kill me. Maybe we should solve that before I worry about dating.”
“You know, he’s still standing at the edge of the gate watching you,” Anya said as she strained her neck and stared toward the entrance.
“He is? Where? I don’t see him.”
“Made you look!” Anya smiled, laughed, and pointed at me. “You like Gunther! I knew you did!”
“You guys are impossible!”
“Having a girlfriend as a ringmaster is going to be so much fun!” Anya smiled as we continued our interrupted walk toward Mark Botsworth’s stick joint.
Mark’s place had the four sides rolled down signaling the tent was closed, but a light shined from within. I called inside, and shadows played against the light colored canvas of the walls.
“Yes?” A human that seemed… well, more human than Fortuna stuck his head out of the corner. Mark Botsworth would have appeared entirely at home on the greens of a country club in his khaki slacks and white polo shirt. His dark hair was neatly crew cut, and his face was smooth and clean-shaven despite the late hour of the day.
“Hi, Mark, I’m Charlotte Astley. Do you have a few minutes to answer some questions about what you saw going on between Alessandra and Dergal the other night?”
“Sure, but I’m not sure who those people are,” he said as he stepped back to make room for the three of us to pass. “Oh, hey, Fortuna.”
“Hi, Mark. Charlotte’s the new ringmaster of the Magical Midway. I wasn’t sure if you’d heard,” Fortuna told him as she lightly touched his wrist with her fingers. My eyes narrowed as I watched the connection last for two seconds, and then Mark gave Fortuna a subtle nod.
Well, that was suspicious.
Disappointment welled up in me as I eyed Fortuna, but then I realized I knew nothing about their powers or gifts. I didn’t know what that could have been, or why, and I liked Fortuna. With all she had riding on staying at the Magical Midway, could she really be part of this conspiracy?
Sometimes just popping off the obvious question could shake something loose. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked. So I took the direct route.
“Since I’m new here, I don’t really have this subtle inquest thing down, yet. What the heck was that?”
“What was what, Ms. Astley?” Mark asked me quietly as a red flush crept up his neck.
“That. That touch. Fortuna, what’s going on here?”
“Mark is a telepath,” Fortuna told me as she squeezed Mark’s arm. “He’s only been here since July, and he only came to the Langdon Carnival in May. The two of you have really only been acquainted with the paranormal world for about the same amount of time, Charlotte. Though yours came in one week spurts.”
“Right. So?”
“So, Mark is new to this. I was simply sending him the information about this meeting that he needed to know. That you are the new ringmaster, what that means, and an overview of the situation. I also told him not to worry or be nervous as you were not here to ask him to leave.”
“I’m sorry, ringmaster,” Mark told me softly. “Fortuna was trying to help me not offend you, and in doing so, we already offended you.”
“I have to tell you, Mark, the fact that anyone is worried about offending me is probably freaking me out more than any actual offense I could be offended by,” I told him. “I’m just Charlotte. I’m not a title, I’m a person. And frankly, you and I probably have a lot more in common than I have with anyone else since we were in the human world so long.”
“We had an apple pie from a human place called Costco for dinner,” Anya told him.
“Pizza, too?” Mark smiled.
“I wish,” I told him. “Please don’t be nervous. I’m pretty much human. That’s how I was raised, anyway.”
“Alright then,” Mark nodded and gestured to the chairs around his tent. “Please, sit down. I’d offer you something to eat, but it sounds like you just had something.”
“We’re trying to find out what happened with Dergal and Alessandra,” I told him as we took a seat. “I understand that you intervened between them when they were having an argument.” His face flashed recognition, and he nodded. “Can you tell me about it?”
“Well, the night that your uncle… Anyway, that night I was sitting in here reading a book when I heard someone cry out. I ran outside to check what was going on.”
“What time, do you think?” Fortuna asked.
“Oh, it was late,” Mark said. “I read before I go to bed.”
“You sleep in here?” I asked. Mark nodded. “Why?”
“I, um… no one ever showed me anywhere else. So I assumed that this was mine to work and sleep in,” Mark told me. Anya smacked her forehead with her hand. “It’s been fine, really.”
“Mark, why didn’t you tell me?” Fortuna asked.
“I didn’t want to be a bother to anyone. In any case, I went outside to check it out. A man and a woman were arguing. The man was big and very angry. He was holding a glass and trying to force the woman to drink.” Anya tensed in the seat next to me, and I could feel the anger radiating off of her. “She was crying and pushing his hands away, and he was grabbing her very roughly.”
“Did he force her to drink?”
“He managed to get some of the drink in her, I think, but I… well, I know I am not supposed to get physical with anyone on the Midway, but I just couldn’t watch that. I went and pushed him away from her. The woman ran toward the boat ride, and the man yelled at me for interfering.”
“Do you know who the man was?”
“No, I’m sorry,” Mark apologized. “I realized when the woman was running back toward the boat ride that she was one of the women that worked there, the blonde woman. I followed and saw her run beneath the waterfall.”
“Did the man say anything that would indicate why he was trying to force her to drink something?” Fortuna asked him.
“He was shouting at her that he wanted her to drink so she would stay out of his way and that it was her own fault for going to the party when he told her not to. Oh! And that henbane was the only way to deal with a clucking hen of a girlfriend.”
“Would you be able to recognize the man if you saw him again?”
“I’m pretty sure,” Mark nodded. “It was dark, but not that dark. The pathways are well lit.”
“How much henbane would it take to knock out a nymph?” I asked Anya.
“A considerable amount,” she told me after thinking about it. “We generally don’t use henbane for sleep or pain because it requires so much of it to work on us. It would taste horrible. Practically half the cup would have to be the herb to make a dent in us.”
Fortuna gasped. “Could this all have been some horrible accident because Dergal was too drunk to drop Ringmaster Phil’s cup off first and he got things mixed up?”
I stared at the seeress stunned. Could this have all been due to one person’s drunken stupidity?
“I don’t follow,” Anya said as she squinted at Fortuna.
“What if Dergal got the drink from Jeannie, walked toward Uncle Phil’s tent but got sidetracked when he saw Alessandra where he told her not to be,” I hypothesized. “He spikes the drink and tries to force her to drink it so she’ll stay asleep for the night and he can do whatever it was he wanted to do. Mark then interferes. In his drunken state, he takes that spiked cup and leaves it on Uncle Phil’s nightstand?”
“That doesn’t explain someone trying to poison you earlier today, however,” Fortuna pointed out.
“Humph. No, it doesn’t,” I agreed. “Mark, would you mind going with us to make sure Dergal is the person you saw doing all this?”
<
br /> “Sure, ring—Charlotte. I’m happy to help in any way I can.
“I’m going to let you two handle this. I still haven’t found my sister. I want to go check a few places she might be,” Anya said as she got up.
Once at the door, she turned toward Mark Botsworth. “You have my gratitude for helping my sister, human. If you ever need to call on me for aid, I will be there. I owe you a debt, and I mean to repay it.” The warrior woman bowed, clicked her combat boots together as she rose, and left.
“I don’t know whether to be honored or scared,” Mark said once Anya was gone.
“Both is probably an appropriate reaction,” I told him as I got up. He nodded, smiled, and then glanced worriedly toward the door.
11
Mark, Fortuna and I stepped out of his tent and walked toward the backyard. My uncle had once explained the magic of the yurts kept there, but it still amazed me.
There were only six yurts behind the carousel to house more than a hundred paranormals, and one of those belonged only to the ringmaster. It didn’t seem physically possible there were enough living quarters for everyone, yet my uncle insisted that the remainder of the inhabitants lived in the other five yurts.
“Each quarter is assigned to a group, and I help them arrange the interior so it suits their group,” my uncle once explained. “The physical size of the yurt or the quarter assigned is of no consequence to what we can do inside.”
“Kind of like a TARDIS?” I asked him. My Dr. Who reference went right over his ringmaster top hat.
I had never felt comfortable asking to be invited inside anyone else’s living quarters, so I had seen none of the quarters that housed many people.
Honestly, I had asked no one because I didn’t want to seem like a complete idiot. I mean, it was my family circus. As a younger teen, I wanted no one to know that I didn’t know what they look like.
Once I got older, it was just embarrassing.
“I believe this is the centaur quarters,” Fortuna said as we came upon a yurt just south of my uncle’s.
