by Leanne Leeds
“We couldn’t choose our ringmaster,” Fiona pointed out.
“That’s my point. You couldn't. My question is why couldn't you do that? Why not choose a representative on the Witches' Council? Or create a new, inclusive Council with representatives from all the clans? Why not? What's stopping any of these things from changing?”
Fiona and Bolt sat back and looked at one another in surprise as if the concept had never once occurred to either of them. I stood up.
“Thanks, Bolt, for your help. I will head back and meet up with my uncle. Maybe he knows something we don’t that can help us with finding Mark.” I looked down at the two troubled faces. “You guys, think about what I said. I know change is hard. The longer I’m here, though, the more I think it may be time for some things to change. At a minimum, Bolt, you shouldn't be condemned to live the rest of your life alone because you gave the wrong someone jewelry.”
The two nodded at me but didn’t speak. I couldn’t believe I rattled their brains that badly, but apparently I had.
Good.
7
Can you meet me in my yurt? I thought out into the fairgrounds.
Who, me? Samson and my uncle answered simultaneously.
Yes, both of you. I waved again at little Anna with her spectral face pressed against the window, and she waved back. Her mother came next to her and tugged her away from the window gently, giving me a slight wave and a smile. Anna frowned, and her face faded from the window.
Hey, why don’t the ghosts ever come out of the haunted house?
This is what you’re concerned about now? Samson asked.
I saw Anna, and I realized she’s always watching out the window, but she never comes out. She looks so sad sometimes. I glanced back once more at the huge decrepit looking castle (that wasn’t really decrepit) and wondered what it would be like to be stuck in its gloom all the time. It didn’t seem like a great place for a little girl. Even one hundreds of years old.
The humans can see ghosts. Well, some humans can, Samson said as we connected with one another in front of the circus tent. The cat leaped to my shoulder and wrapped his tail around my neck. One of your ancestors decided it was better not to risk them being seen.
Is this necessary?
I didn’t have any input on his judgment.
No, I mean this. I poked the cat in the rear on my shoulder. You’re not a parrot, Samson. Cats don’t ride on people’s shoulders.
I fit fine. Besides, my legs are tired, and I just cleaned my fur. I don’t want to get dirty again.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” I said as I stepped into my yurt and transferred the cat to the bed. He promptly climbed up to the top and curled up on my favorite pillow. Wonderful. “I swear, I don’t know how you survived hundreds of years. You’re so prissy about things sometimes.”
I am faithful to my nature. I am a cat.
“Yeah, yeah, so you keep telling me.”
“Good afternoon, my dears,” Uncle Phil said as he scurried in. “I would love to report I have found Mark, and worked out our Witches’ Council issue. I would love to report those two things, but I cannot. Trying to thwart these diabolical plots is much harder without the ringmaster powers.”
“Why? What would you do if you had them?” I asked Uncle Phil as I put a pot on for some tea.
“Well, first, I would follow Mark’s tether thread to where he is so I could check on him. It would also help to identify his whereabouts. That might give us a clue regarding who helped make him disappear.”
I clutched the edge of the table until my knuckles were white and breathed in and out. “You could do that as a ringmaster?” I asked without turning around.
“Of course!”
“So,” I turned around, and pulled my face into the fakest smile I could achieve. I wasn’t doing it to be coy. I read somewhere that if you smile, you can make yourself feel happy. And not livid. Or murderous. Both feelings I was trying to fight at that moment. “Since I have the ringmaster powers, does that mean I can follow Mark’s tether and see if he is okay? And maybe see where he is?” I fluttered my eyelashes and smiled wider.
“Well, there’s great risk associated with that, Charlotte,” Uncle Phil said as he sat back in my delicate wicker chair. It creaked under the weight of him. “If you do it wrong, they’ll see you. Then they’ll know we know.”
“They’ll know we know what?”
“That Mark’s been taken. And by who.”
“So?”
“Well… we prefer to be invisible. We don’t want them to know what we know and what we don’t know.”
“I get that. I’m asking why we don’t want them to know what… oh, for goodness sake, why do we care whether they see me, Uncle Phil? Will I be in any danger? Can they hurt me?”
“No, it would simply be a visage of you if they even see anything at all. But they would know we know that Mark’s gone.” I stared at my uncle like he had grown another head.
“We do know that Mark’s gone.”
“Right. Then I don’t see what the problem is, Charlotte. You’re worrying about nothing, it would seem,” Uncle Phil said as he waved me off and coughed. My eyes narrowed as I glared at my uncle.
“Right, then, Uncle Phil. Why don’t you explain what I have to do to find Mark, and I’ll float off and check on him.”
“Absolutely, my girl,” Uncle Phil grinned. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Let me go grab some things from my room. You should get one of the lares to hold guard, so we’re not interrupted.”
With the yurt entry sealed and Bob positioned outside to keep anyone from disturbing us, Uncle Phil threw fluffy pillows on my rugged floor. “It seems to be easier to do when you are as close to the land as you can be,” he clarified as he grabbed a stone plate and placed it between the pillows.
“Why is that?”
“I have no idea.” Uncle Phil grabbed a fire pot and set it on the stone. The fire pot looked archaic, darkened almost to solid black from the myriad of fires it must have contained over the years. “Many details about magic just are the way they are, Charlotte.”
Who knew wielding magical superpowers that could kill people would require such a zen, laid-back attitude? Throw caution to the wind, just accept things. Seems logical.
He didn’t tell you not to take care, Samson said. He is correct, though. There are things that even I do not understand. Not much, of course. In fact, very, very little. Now that I think about it, I know most things.
Okay, why do I have to sit closer to the floor, genius?
That information is just trivia. It’s beneath me to worry about such insignificant things.
You don’t know, do you?
Silence from the all-knowing, all-seeing cat.
Uncle Phil gestured toward the fluffy pillows, and I sat down cross-legged before the contained flame gently flickering in the fire pot. Uncle Phil sat on the ground in front of me, and Samson hopped off the bed to sit next to the fire pot. “Clear your mind, Charlotte, of any worry or fear. Any concerns, any apprehension. Let all preoccupations just fall from your mind. Open yourself up to simply being one with the world. One with the Magical Midway. Focus on the fire.”
My uncle’s voice was calming, almost hypnotic, and he threw a blue powder onto the flame. With a deep breath, I tried to release all my worry and directly stare into the warmth and comfort of the small fire between us. “What is that odor?” I asked him. My voice sounded harsh, and far away.
“This is the scent of the blue rose, the rarest rose of all,” Uncle Phil said as he tossed more blue powder onto the fire. “It joins us with the timeless energy of the earth and all of its beings.”
“There are no blue roses,” I murmured, but my voice sounded slightly drunk. A foggy haze of powder blue crept in the fringe of my vision.
“Hush now,” Uncle Phil chided me. “Inhale in the scent of this magical flower, and it will help you on your spirit journey. Clear your mind, and continue to see the flame, and immerse y
ourself in the bouquet of the noble flower…”
With another deep intake of scented air, the blue haze closed in on my vision, washing the world in a patina of blue. As I breathed in and out, in and out, it closed it’s circled march around my perception until the flame in the center of my vision turned blue. With my next deep inhalation, the fire shot high into the air. Sparks flew.
“Remain calm, Charlotte,” Uncle Phil said. “Just relax and do not fight what is about to happen.”
Before I could pull myself out of the drunken blue rose haze to ask my uncle what he meant, I felt the wafting smoke reach into me somehow. It was as if something was crawling within me, adding an extra layer to my skin, but underneath my skin. Despite the foreign feeling, I was not afraid, and it didn’t make me nervous. As I felt the smoky invasion wrap itself around me, I cringed and closed my eyes as a loud pop startled me.
When I opened them again, the world was powder blue. It was shining with ethereal, gentle light. My head swiveled on my neck as I stared around the room, marveling at Uncle Phil’s multicolored glow, and Samson’s pure white shine. And my body…
Wait a minute.
How am I looking down at myself sitting cross-legged on the rug? I felt a flash of fear and leaned down to touch my head when Samson shouted Stop!
What the heck is this? How can I see this?
If you touch your body, you will rejoin it, and we will have to begin again.
“This is absolutely bizarre. Just bizarre,” I said as I stared down at my uncle, Samson, and my body. “Am I still alive?”
Of course you are. Some of your spirit remains to fasten you to your body, and secure the Magical Midway to your bloodline. Most of you, however, has been divided from that physicality into traveling energy.
“I’m drooling,” I told him.
Yes. There’s not much of you left in there. Just sufficient to keep you breathing, so regular body preservation, and the part of you that can magically defend yourself and the circus. Most of you is now floating up there.
Floating?
I looked down at my shimmering body and realized I was floating in midair cross-legged just to the right of the other version of myself. The drooling, dimwitted version of myself. I extended my legs and panicked as I kicked them out toward the floor. “I can’t get down!”
You can. Think that you wish to be on the ground and you will be there. You are energy, Charlotte. There is no gravity anymore, but you still have power over your spirit’s mind. That mind controls your life form. Think up, down, stand. Your soul remembers your body. It will know what to do.
I thrashed in frustration as I shouted within my head to go down. Whatever the sparkling spirit body was, it was first and foremost uncooperative. “I keep thinking down, but nothing is happening!”
Be calm, Charlotte. You can’t order yourself to act. You are willing yourself to be. Believe that you can stand. Know that you know how to do this, and merely assume that it will be done.
Despite having no lungs anymore, I breathed deeply in and out to calm myself. As I grew steadier, the heady scent of blue rose grew bolder. Despite, you know, not having a nose to smell anything. As my anxiety diminished, so did the spiritual representation of my body drift downward. I glided down and stopped. Though I didn’t feel my feet hit the floor, I came to rest in a position that made it look as if I was standing.
Wonderful, Samson complimented me. Now do the same thing, only this time focus your attention on your uncle and your desire for him to see you.
Though I struggled a little bit at first, willing myself to be seen came much easier once I had mastered not floating in midair. Uncle Phil burst into a broad smile and clapped his hands with excitement.
“Wonderful! Your spirit is such a beautiful rainbow of colors, Charlotte!”
“Thanks, I think? Will that blue rose stuff pop anybody out of their body like this if they smell it?”
“No. This is a special capability of ringmasters. Well, and those of the bloodline. Your father could do this if he wished. Your mother could not. Blue rose incense is very rare, and only those of noble blood can get it.” Uncle Phil grinned and laughed again, pleased by my shimmering rainbow presence. “You are such a natural, dear girl.”
While I, too, am pleased with how quickly Charlotte was able to master this, I would like to remind you both that the clock is ticking and there is work to be done.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Uncle Phil agreed and nodded. “Will yourself to see Mark’s attachment, and then will yourself to follow it. If it’s safe, you may wish to talk to him and make yourself visible to him the same way you’ve done with me. Then, when you are ready to return, simply will yourself back here.”
If you get into trouble, you can call out ‘rubberbandacon,’ and you will crash back here into your body nearly instantaneously.
“Rubberbandacon? Not abracadabra or something fancier? More magical?”
“Are you criticizing our family's magical words? My magical words, in fact?” Uncle Phil frowned.
“Uh, no, Uncle Phil,” I shook my head. “I didn’t realize you had created this.”
“I got myself into a little bit of a pickle a few years ago. A story for another time, dear girl. You must get going.”
I nodded and willed to see the connection between Mark Botsworth and myself. A shimmering thread appeared in front of me reaching out to the west. The cord pulsed and shook, and it was taut with tension. Within seconds of willing myself to follow it, my world exploded into flashes of light.
It was dark, but I could see everything outlined in a sheen of pulsing energy. I was in some kind of barn. Stacks of hay, crates were strewn about, and stable-like enclosures. A horse shed, maybe? I could smell nothing other than the blue rose. From the back corner of the room, I heard whispered cursing and moved toward it.
“Mark?” I called, but there was no answer. Could he hear me? I wasn’t sure if I had to will myself to be visible to every single person I came across, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. I closed my eyes and calmed myself, willing Mark to see and hear me if he was in there.
“Mark?”
“Who’s there?” someone asked sharply.
“Mark, it’s me, Charlotte? Where are you?”
“Charlotte? Oh my gosh, Charlotte!” Chains rattled and clanked, and I heard him curse again under his breath. “I can’t get up. Deo has me shackled. I’m in the back stall.”
“Who’s Deo?” I asked as I tried to walk toward him. After a few seconds, I realized that I wasn’t closing the distance and just walked in place as if on a treadmill. Ugh. You must be kidding me. Squinting my eyes and focusing, I drifted toward, and then through the back stall. Mark yelped as I emerged. “Be quiet! They can’t hear me, but they can hear you.”
“Sorry! Sorry. I thought you were here, not… what are you? Oh no, are you dead?” Mark asked, looking despondent. His face was spattered with dirt, and his hair was matted with grass. Dried blood crusted against the right side of his skull just above his ear. Manacles attached to his wrists, and as he moved, I could see red where they had scraped him raw. “I am so sorry, Charlotte. I wish I could send messages to paranormals. I tried sending one to Fortuna, but I just wasn’t strong enough. Please tell me your death wasn't my fault somehow.”
“We must be too far away for her to have heard you.” I floated toward Mark and reached out to undo his manacles, but my hand simply passed through them and him. I couldn’t manipulate anything. “And I’m not dead. I think I’m, like, astrally traveling here or something. At least most of me is. I would have been here sooner, but no one let me know I could do something like this. Where are we?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see out of that window up there, my chains won’t stretch that far.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“I was hanging out in the lion area, and someone called outside by the pool like they needed help. It sounded like they were behind the pool, so I looked to see.” Mark yank
ed on his chains again and frowned. “A man was behind the pool all right, but he wasn’t anyone I knew, and he wasn’t inside the barrier. When I asked who he was, I was attacked from behind, and pushed into the man outside the boundary.”
“Did you see who pushed you?” He shook his head no.
“I didn’t see him. Or her. Whoever it was, they whacked me on the head but good, though. I think I was knocked out. When I woke up, I was here. Wherever here is.”
Within a few days, the Witches’ Council would return, and there was a mighty good chance that Mark would be taken by them, anyway. Why risk such a stunt just to get Mark out of the way early? Was it a diversion so I couldn’t concentrate on the Witches’ Council issue? Or something else?
“Are you all right? I mean, are you seriously hurt?”
“This bump on my head isn’t fun, but I’m okay. The guy that took me is feeding me, bringing me water.”
“Have you seen anyone else?”
“No.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“Someone called for a Deo, and he ran out of here like he was answering to that name,” Mark said. “I don’t know if that is his name, but I think it is. I know he’s a lion shifter, and I think he's connected to our lion pride.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He looks exactly like Leo, the head of Serena’s pride at the Magical Midway. They could be twins.” As Mark said Serena’s name, he winced as though it was painful. “Is she okay? I hope she’s not… Anyway, is Serena all right? They didn’t do anything to her, did they?”
“She’s a lot better than you,” I told him. “Has he said anything to you? Given you any reason this is happening? Asked you for anything?”
