by Leanne Leeds
You have no proof he didn’t, so tread carefully, Samson told me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Scout. I wish I did, because I’m a little confused myself,” I told him. “I don’t remember much of yesterday afternoon.”
“The lady ringmaster had imbibed on some human wine, future clan leader,” Bolt told Scout as he stepped away from us toward Devana. “I would not be surprised if she truly did not remember the terrible, disrespectful things that she said about your honored brother.”
“The woman went off with you, did she not, as she spoke her anger?” Devana asked Bolt.
“I did spend the afternoon with her, yes.”
“Odd. And yet she is clearly wrapped in the lawgiver’s protection. A spell that only works for those in a committed relationship,” Devana said as she waved her hand and the pink haze that surrounded Gunther and I suddenly blazed brightly. “It seems that your little romantic interlude was not a genuine one, elf. One wonders if her words were genuine when she roamed with you considering that.”
“What is your problem, witch?” Bolt asked, angered.
“I am simply a huntress,” she responded as she squatted down, grasping a handful of dirt. “I hunt those that are weak. I cull the herd when needed to keep the balance.” She extended her hand as the dirt spilled out from within her palm and fell back to the earth. “I take down those that need to be taken down. For the good of all, of course.”
Clapping the dirt from her hands, she shrugged.
“That is not an answer,” Bolt told her.
“The balance is always my answer. The weak are my target. Those who cannot see the truth. Those who are too weak to survive. Those who challenge the order. And the weak are not always the ones that people assume they are. Are you weak, elf? How about you, ringmaster?”
“If you’re really taking me on, lady, I think you’re about to find out,” I told her.
“That was not an answer,” the woman responded. “When you answer that question, you will know why I am here.”
“Who hired you?” Gunther asked Devana as he pulled me closer.
“Who hired her for what?” Scout asked, confused. “What the heck are you witches talking about? I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Don’t worry about it, darling, you’ll understand soon enough.” Devana patted Scout’s shoulder as if he were her pet. “Everyone here will get what they want or what they deserve. Sometimes, those things may even be the very same. Many times, they will not be.”
Bolt’s blue ring flashed as a beam of sunlight broke through the canopy, and he quickly shoved his hand into his pocket to hide it. The shield around us suddenly crackled loudly, then stopped just as immediately.
“Get us out of here, Charlotte,” Gunther told me. The shield around us buzzed and then crackled again.
“I’m not done with you yet!” Scout shouted.
“Now, Charlotte,” Gunther said more urgently, grabbing my hand tightly.
I flung us both back to the Magical Midway turning over what on earth I had just seen in my mind and working through what it all meant.
“That buzzing and crackling was an attack,” Gunther told me as we reappeared in my yurt back in the Magical Midway. “I didn’t want to wait around and see if it was stronger than my hastily thrown up shield.”
“I thought you said it would repel any glamour from Bolt.”
“It would. But the shield wouldn’t react like that against a glamour.”
“The attack was coming from someone else in that clearing. It had to be,” Uncle Phil said as he walked in, Samson trotting behind him. “You two all right?”
“We’re fine,” I shrugged. “I didn’t even realize anything was going on. I just got us out of there because Gunther said something.”
“Charlotte, sometimes your statements really don’t inspire confidence, dear girl.”
I made a face at my uncle.
“What would a werebear leader be doing with a huntress witch?” I asked as we sat down.
“Do you know what a huntress witch is?”
“No. Well, nothing more than Gunther said back in the clearing. That was the first I’ve ever heard of them.”
“Don’t you think we should start there?”
I got it. My uncle had to make sure he pointed out that I didn’t know enough to do my job, protect myself, or solve the case. Yep. Why should anyone miss a moment to remind me that I’ve only been doing this less than six months and I suck at it?
There are things that you must know about the huntress witch. Phil is not merely trying to make fun of your lack of knowledge. Although, point of fact, that wouldn’t exactly be hard.
Really? Things I couldn’t tell from her all-black outfit, the crown of bloodied branches, and her oracular pronouncements?
We know you realize she’s dangerous, Charlotte. Your uncle just wants you to understand why she’s dangerous.
“Okay, then enlighten me, gentlemen. Please, let’s take some time to fill in the large gaps in my education. Gaps, I remind you, that are not my fault.”
“At some point, Charlotte, enough time will have passed in your tenure as ringmaster that your father’s decision not to educate you as a witch won’t be an acceptable excuse anymore,” Uncle Phil told me with the force of a hammer coming down. “Perhaps that’s not today, but I do think it’s coming very soon.”
“Hey, Phil, lighten up a little bit on her, okay?” Gunther told my uncle as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I went to school for eight years to know what I know. She’s had less than six months.”
“She’s had five months,” Uncle Phil snapped at Gunther. “And that doesn’t matter. She’s facing threats that no ringmaster in our history has ever faced in such a short period of time. If you truly care about my niece, Gunther Makepeace, you will stay out of the relationship between us and stay quiet when I instruct the ringmaster of our circus on what she needs to know.”
“Mr. Astley, I meant no offense—”
“You children never do, and yet you keep making decisions that blunder our entire community into highly volatile situations,” Uncle Phil told him as he stood up for no other reason than to look down upon us both.
Where is this coming from, Samson?
You realize I can hear you when you talk to the cat, don’t you? Uncle Phil said in my head as he stared down at me.
I don’t care if you can hear me or not, the way you’re talking to Gunther is entirely uncalled for.
Uncle Phil’s eyes narrowed.
Do you realize the two of you just advertised that you are in a romantic relationship? In a clearing lined with guards, with a huntress witch that might be here to hunt you down, at one of the largest festivals in the paranormal world? And you did this all while there’s talk of you being a murderer?
Gunther took a breath to speak, but I reached out and placed my hand on his arm to still him. He looked at me and then turned to look up at Uncle Phil. I was impressed that he intuited Uncle Phil and I were speaking because he squeezed my hand and stayed silent.
Well, when you put it like that… Actually, I don’t get it. What do Gunther and I dating have anything to do with any of this?
You are a ringmaster and a lawgiver. He is a lawgiver and a ringmaster heir. You think the Witches’ Council feared you before? How about the two of you being in a relationship? What do you think they will think about that, Charlotte?
Honestly, Uncle Phil, I don’t care one whit what the Witches’ Council thinks about who I date.
Perhaps you should. Your boyfriend is not a ringmaster yet. The physical protections that keep you from so much harm do not extend to him. Should the Witches’ Council decide that the two of you together is too much of a threat, Gunther is now a much easier target to destroy than you.
My stomach dropped to the dirty floor of my yurt and stayed there.
I don’t have to be telepathic to know that you understand what I’m saying now, don’t you?
I nodded silently, quietly kicking myself for thinking anything I did anymore wouldn’t have far-reaching consequences. Of all the things that ran through my head when taking a chance with Gunther, his physical safety was not one of those considerations.
What about the lawgiver protections?
They will help some, yes. But there’s a reason that ring can go so quickly from one person to another upon death. Their defenses are not in the same league as the ringmaster protection. And your enemies have been finding gaping holes in your own protections.
I didn’t know who came up with rings being so crucial in the paranormal world, but it seemed ridiculous. Not that they weren’t relevant in the human world. I mean, wedding rings were significant because of what they signified. Engagement rings.
The symbolic human value of rings is a shadow of the power of rings in our own, Samson said.
So many rings causing so many problems. The lawgiver ring, the Vanya ring… Wait a minute.
That couldn’t be the ring on Bolt’s finger.
It’s impossible.
Wasn’t it?
“We need to get everyone together,” I told Gunther, who jumped as I unexpectedly broke the silence. “I think my uneducated mind may have just realized why Bolt is involved in this, and who’s behind it all.”
8
“When Mark was kidnapped, Fiona and I went to talk to Bolt. He used to date Alexa Atwater, and since she showed up the same day that Mark disappeared we wanted to see what we could find out about her,” I told the group.
“I’d never been in the Sticky Walls ride when it was in the elven mode before. Unbelievably beautiful,” Fiona interjected as she grabbed a chip from the bowl on the table in front of her. “All blue and white and sparkling. Just so pretty.”
“He told us the story of what happened when he and Alexa broke up.”
“What does that have to do with anything now, Charlotte?” Fortuna asked.
“She left him because of greed. At least, that’s what it sounded like. She stole his Vanya ring. Well, I don’t know if stole is the right word. He gave it to her as an engagement ring,” I explained.
“Vanda ring. Vanya was the word he said to create it. And she sold it to a witch in Impy,” Fiona said. “Broke his heart, too. And ruined his life, really, since elves only get one Vanya ring. Ugh, Vanda ring. Now you have me doing it, Charlotte.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Okay, how about we just call it the elf one ring? Anyway, the one ring is a pledge ring, and it has magical properties that make it really valuable, he said,” I told them.
“Does he have to bring it to Mordor?” Fortuna chuckled. I glared at her. “Sorry, I kinda had to. I mean, you really did walk into that one.”
“I think I liked you better when you were shy,” I told her as everyone else looked confused. “Anyway, she made some deal with the witch in Impy to use one of the safety nets of the ring. You speak the word Vanda after moving the ring to a different finger and all the wealth of the person you’re engaged to transfers to you.”
“Vanya,” Fiona corrected. “It’s a Vanda ring. The word is Vanya. That transfers all of the money from one person to another instantly.”
“I’m familiar with that,” Uncle Phil said. “That only works if the person who gifted the ring is dead, though. Bolt’s not dead.”
“Nope, he’s not, but that didn’t matter. Not when a witch in Impy City helps you steal the wealth of your fiancé magically, apparently. She found someone that knew how to get around the whole Bolt being dead thing. She stole his money, and kept the ring, I guess.”
“I asked Alexa about the ring, actually, after we caught her,” Fiona said. “I wanted to try and get it back for Bolt. It seemed horribly sad that he would wind up living alone the rest of his life. She told me there were other powers in the ring. Leaving it with the witch was the price of her help.”
“Do we know who this witch was?” Fortuna asked Fiona.
“No, why?”
“I don’t know. I was just curious, I guess.”
“So, the whole point of me telling the story was that twice now a ring on Bolt’s hand has caught my eye. The stone is the same blue color as the rocks in the Sticky Walls ride when it mimics whatever Elvish land it’s trying to resemble,” I concluded.
“That doesn’t mean it’s the one ring,” Fiona said.
“Precioussss!” Fortuna whispered.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Sorry, Charlotte. Really. I’m really sorry,” Fortuna mumbled as she pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. “I don’t know what’s got into me, really. I’ll stop.”
“How do we find out if it’s the one ring? Who would know what they look like?” I asked. Fiona’s face tightened with concentration.
“Well, an elf, I guess. But he’s the only one here.”
“Maybe Samson knows,” Uncle Phil suggested.
I do.
“He does, actually,” I told the group. We all waited silently.
“So is it the ring?” Fiona asked.
“I don’t know, he hasn’t told me yet.”
Everyone in the group turned to look at the cat laying on the bed. Samson was curled peacefully against my pillow, his tail wrapped around his coiled body. His breath was even and steady.
Are you going to tell us or not?
Tell you what?
If that ring on Bolt’s finger is the same ring that Alexa sold to the witch in Impy?
You didn’t ask me that.
Yes, I did.
No, you asked me if I knew the answer to that. And I told you I did.
There were so many word games I liked.
I liked Scrabble. I loved playing Hangman when I was a kid. Sunday crossword puzzles with Dad were fun. Mad libs at a party! That was fun. I loved word games. All sorts of word games.
But Samson word games?
I hated Samson word games.
Samson, my honored familiar, Guardian of the Magical Midway, sleeper on my pillow, eater of the salmon—could you pretty please, with sugar on top, tell me if the ring that Bolt is wearing is the same Vanya ring he gave to Alexa?
Vanda ring.
Samson!!
Yes. It is the same ring. What was once stolen from him has now been restored to him.
How?
That is the question, isn’t it? When one works that hard to get a thing, one rarely gifts it back to the one stolen from for no reason, I would think.
I related the information I got from Samson to the group. For a moment, Fiona smiled, and I felt relief flow from her that Bolt had his future restored to him. Despite his actions of the past few days, Fiona still cared for him.
As soon as she felt that relief, however, it dribbled away in a cauldron of confusion, and then concern.
“No witch from Impy would just hand that back to him for no reason,” she said. “All his money, all his power, everything was just handed back to him?”
“According to Samson, yes.”
“I wonder what the price is on something like that?” Gunther mused as he fidgeted with his lawgiver ring. “Is it worth it to sell out your ringmaster to get your future back?”
“They can be cold and calculating creatures, elves,” Uncle Phil said.
“Dishonest and disloyal, too, clearly,” Fiona said. “Bolt has been with us for years. I never would’ve thought this of him.”
“Look, I’m not letting anyone off the hook for what they did. Whatever that ultimately winds up being,” I told Fiona. “But if you had lost the hope of a marriage, of children, and also lost everything your ancestors and family had given to you because of one bad decision… if someone gave you the opportunity to take that back, what would you do? What would any of us do?”
“You're too understanding, Charlotte,” Gunther said as Uncle Phil and Fiona nodded. “Even if he was approached and manipulated by some witch to do this, even if he only did it to get that ring back—look, there a
re just some lines you don’t cross.”
“He already has the ring, Charlotte,” Fortuna pointed out. “I hate to agree with everyone else, but this isn’t something being held over him. He wasn’t told to do whatever he’s doing, and then he would get the ring. It’s not leverage.”
“She’s right. He has the ring. He’s just as guilty as whoever is directing him,” Fiona said as she leaned into Ningul. He put his arm around her and rubbed her shoulder, but said nothing as she sighed.
Which I was getting used to from the centaur any time he was around Fiona. I would need to stop by a centaur meeting at some point just to re-familiarize myself with the man’s voice.
It was late. Despite the hour being close to midnight, we hadn’t come up with any formalized plan. I was nervous that we would figure none of this out in time. Tomorrow was the last full day we had left.
Knowing why Bolt was acting the way he was didn’t get me any closer to understanding what was ultimately behind the werebear leader’s murder, or the determination to pin it on me.
I wasn’t even sure Chase’s murder was connected with the effort to frame me. They could just be two unconnected conspiracies, each with their own perpetrators and reasons. Maybe someone killed him and then just saw an opportunity to get rid of me, too. Maybe—
“Charlotte, do you want me to go?” Gunther asked me as soon as the last of our friends and family left my yurt. I turned to look at my boyfriend…
…my boyfriend.
Just thinking of Gunther as my boyfriend seemed strange and unfamiliar. As soon as we were alone, nervous tension had replaced the ease I felt around him. The decision to attempt a relationship opened up so many possibilities.
Possibilities I wasn’t ready for.
“I… um… I don’t want you to go, but I don’t want you to read too much into the fact that I don’t want you to go. If you get my meaning,” I told Gunther as I blushed so many shades of red that I imagined I must look like a tomato on the verge of exploding.
“The only thing that I’m reading into your desire not to have me leave is that you’d like me to be here with you. That’s all,” Gunther said as he stepped forward.
