Carnival Charlatan

by Skeeter Enright

  I heard the panels slam shut on several of the nearby food stands. Laura, the resident lot lizard who fittingly ran the “Rat Race” concession, bailed over the counter and headed for parts unknown. She wouldn’t have been any good in a fight anyway.

  I’d known Tom since I was a kid. Everyone respected him. I knew we’d be closing within minutes. Nothing moves faster than warnings on a carnival lot. Tom would find the boss and be taken seriously. Mister D and Grammy had been an item at one time. I could warn him about a possible demon and fairy attack, and he would believe me. He had been privy to the true weirdness of the world since long before I was born.

  Who would call demons to this world? The average person will tell you witches and wizards are harmless crackpots. Don’t believe it. Dark magic is out there. Malevolent practitioners try to stay out of sight, but abusers of magic were always a problem. They endanger the rest of us. Kids, like the pincushion guy earlier tonight, get caught up in evil before they even realize what is happening to them. They get to like the power, and it takes over their soul. I don’t know much about religion, but I do know how people get twisted to become warlocks. I wondered who drew the demons to the carnival. Pincushion Guy wasn’t skilled enough, and the crazy mark from this morning wasn’t strong enough. What were demons and a fairy doing here?

  I hurried through the surprisingly deserted booths, usually run by townies, past the track where they ran the pig races, toward the cattle barns. As I went, I repeated my warning to everyone I saw. Before I was halfway, I heard the loud speakers warning the public the carnival was closing due to the storm.

  The Carnies I live with have always known there is something different about my family. Most of them didn’t really want to know exactly how different. Traveling and living closer to nature as a group, they generally accepted the world was a bit more complicated than it seemed on the surface; however, being Carnies, they mind their own business and keep out of the way when unusual things happen. Mostly, if it won’t bite them on the ass, they don’t want to know.

  The one thing about Carnies though, is that no matter what, they take care of their own. I had the feeling that tonight I was going to earn my keep.

  Demons and fairies—my worst nightmare was coming to life.

  The problems my family dealt with historically have to do with assorted monsters, demons, or fairies who have wandered into this world’s reality from the one next door. Our particular gifts put us in the way of the supernatural more than the average occult witch. I have no idea why. The creatures from what the old Celts call the Outlands, who slip into our reality, were the stuff of fairy tales and legends. I am a fair hand as a witch. I have enough training to focus power and throw a spell when I need to, but how can anybody expect a simple Carney girl like me to deal with legends?

  Demons were bad but could be handled. If you had my gift and knew a demon was about, you said a little spell, opened a door to the Outlands, and closed it after the demon trundled through. They were usually as anxious to get out of our world as we humans were to get rid of them. Most witches had to use specific doorways—or ‘ways’ in the vernacular—to the Outlands. These portals were places where the membrane between the different realities was thin. I can open ways to the other world just about anywhere. It’s one of my family’s particular gifts.

  Being able to open ways was great when I was a kid. If someone bothered me, I would distract them, step backward through a way, and disappear. Time and distance were different in the Outlands. I would count to three and pop back. Usually about ten minutes would have passed in the here and now, and I’d be alone. I did it a quite a few times until Grammy caught me. She took me across and showed me some of the things I could have popped in on during my little jaunts. Those demons that were stupid and preoccupied on this side were definitely not disoriented in their own environment. A human’s place on the food chain drops considerably in the Outlands. I don’t casually pop across anymore.

  The wind whipped my hair into my face. I wiped it away, spitting out the stray strands that found their way into my mouth. I could taste the bitter adrenalin along with my apricot shampoo. My three-bean salad threatened to make an encore appearance. I didn’t want to do this. I wanted to curl up in my trailer and take a long shower. I wanted to drink tequila and howl at the moon—anything, but what I knew I would have to do.

  There were things worse than demons on the Outlands. Some of those things travelled regularly to this world. The powerful fairies who ventured into our world were hundreds of times worse than demons, and I’d felt a fairy nearby. I’d read the phrase “her blood ran cold” and always thought it was a metaphor. Running through the fairgrounds on this sweltering August night, I realized it actually happens. I was so scared that my teeth were chattering, gooseflesh rose on my arms and down my back.

  Fairies scared the liver out of me. Technically, they’re called the Sidhe, or the Fae, but legends called them Fairies and had stories about sweet little fairies living in flowers and granting wishes. I have studied the Fae, and I’m here to tell you it’s all Fairy propaganda.

  There were as many different types of Fairies as there were freckles on the Irish. Very few of them were benevolent or even neutral toward humans. Fairies ran the gamut from tiny Tinkerbelle types who were harmless unless you ticked them off, to trolls, gnomes, incubi, succubae, storybook vampires who suck blood, and others too difficult to describe unless you’d met them. I’ve always figured the brothers Grimm had experience in the Outlands, since they made such accurate descriptions of some of its denizens in their stories. Children were wise to be frightened by Grimm’s fairy tales. I definitely was.

  I was going to have to do my best to keep the creatures off the fairgrounds…easier said than done. The wards I had put up covered a lot of area. Right now, they were just a minor deterrent, not a wall. I needed to pump a lot more energy into them to make an actual barrier to the preternatural. A ley-line ran under the cattle barn. It was a big one. I needed the energy. As I neared the barn, I gathered energy, strengthening the warding perimeter around the carnival. It was getting so strong that even the head blind public would get a shiver for a second as they passed through while heading to their cars.

  As I ran, I couldn’t stop thinking about Grammy. We’d never found her body. Did she try to fight demons and fairies at the same time? I’d studied these otherworldly creatures. I’m a strong believer in the “know your enemy” principle. Studying the Fae made me decide at a very young age that I was no hero. When I sensed them around, I kept my head down and tried to blend into the background. That wasn’t going to be an option tonight.

  If I could keep the wards at this strength, it would take a powerful supernatural being to make their way onto the fairgrounds. That is, unless they opened a way inside the perimeter. That’s me, always looking on the bright side. As I ran, I checked the energy I had stored in my rings, bracelets, and even the bangles on my scarf. Everybody thought all the gypsy accoutrements were just for show, but a real practitioner used them all to her advantage. Energy can be stored in metals and released as easily as breathing—a little at a time or a lot in one big blast. If something did appear inside the grounds, at least I had plenty of juice for a fight.

  The rain started as I entered the barn. It thundered on the tin roof. Restless cows stirred in their stalls. Animals were sensitive to the energies I was manipulating. Their warm, musky smell and soulful eyes usually comforted me. With the weird things about, I didn’t have time to appreciate the cowishness of the place.

  I muttered a spell, which put the barn’s watchman to sleep in his chair. Thank goodness this fair didn’t let the kids stay in the barn with their animals. I took a prod that was leaning against the wall and drew a circle in the soft dirt around the guard. I closed it with a protection spell. Unless something mortal broke the circle, he would be safe from the supernatural until he woke in the morning. It was the best I could do for him.

  I focused back on the general ward
s around the lot, pumping even more energy from the ley-line into them. My eyes were closed, I muttered a spell to keep me focused on the task. Demons tested the wards like electric jolts reaching for me from three separate sides of the lot. Three was the most demons I had ever seen on this side at one time. Luckily, none of them were near the front arch where the last of the carnival-goers made their way to their cars. At least I hoped there were no creatures on that side. The alternative was the monsters were too busy eating the people on their way to their cars to test my wards.

  I sensed someone near. I didn’t want to lose my focus. “Who,” I rasped.

  “It’s me, Airy. What do you need us to do?” Mister D’s falsetto warble was a comfort. Mister D got things done.

  If I’d had the energy to spare, I would have wept with relief. Two more shocks from inquiring demons made me shake. I replied without opening my eyes. “It’s demons. I don’t know how long I can hold the wards. Fifteen minutes at the most. Have everyone draw a circle around their campers. They shouldn’t break the line. When they are done—” I gasped as ten demons tested the wards at the same time. I’d never heard of so many demons in the same place before. I poured a massive amount of energy from the earth through me to the wards. I could feel my insides heating up. If I lost focus for a second, I’d go up like a flare. Was that the way Grammy died?

  “Have them put a drop of blood on the line and stay inside the circle,” Mister D finished for me. “I’ve been through this before.”

  I really didn’t want to think this had happened before.

  “Do the best you can, Airy. I’ll take care of the crew. I’ll come back for you when…”

  “No,” I gasped. “I’ll be all right.”

  If they did what Mister D told them, my friends would be safe. My relief was palpable. Anyone can use a protection circle, even if they don’t know what it is for. The tiny drop of blood sacrifice is a ritual from beyond time. It allows the circle to ward off all but the most ancient of preternatural beings.

  “You’re sure?” Mister D asked.

  I nodded, my eyes squeezed shut. I was unable to look at him, my awareness on the wards. “Hurry, it’s bad,” I choked through my clenched teeth.

  Good genetics makes complex magic easier, but it really comes down to concentration and focus. Using magic is really allowing your body to be a conduit for energy and using your will to give the energy direction. I like to think of it as a garden hose shooting fire. If you let it go while it is running, it whips around and burns you up. In the case of families like mine, instead of a garden hose, we direct a six-inch fire hose, and you have to hang on for all you’re worth. It can take a lot out of you. Most practiced witches and wizards die of exhaustion rather than disaster.

  I didn’t hear Mister D leave.

  Demons were hitting the wards from all directions almost constantly now. It was as if they were trying to see how much I could take.

  Without the distraction of talking, I got my second wind. I cooled my insides. I had a good handle on the energy stream, but holding up the wards at this level drained me. My legs trembled, rivulets of sweat poured off me, shedding heat. I could hear drops pattering down on the ground. I had the fleeting thought that if anyone could see me now, I would have heat waves rising over me like a summer highway. No more blood running cold.

  It seemed like hours had gone by, but it could only have been minutes, when I heard Ace, the gate man’s voice over the PA system, “We’re all clear, Airy. Airy, we’re clear. Everyone’s ready.”

  I spooled back the energy. As it backed down, I felt the wards not drop but burst like a balloon popping with the weight of all those creatures. I muttered a spell, “Mirinto portious,” and opened a portal to the Outlands in the barn aisle. The demons should sense it and run right through. Normally, I can open a way to the Outlands without saying the spell aloud, but with demons and fairies around, I was understandably distracted.

  I grabbed the cattle prod and closed a large circle around me, muttering a protection spell in lieu of blood. The circle closed just as the first demons entered the barn. Geez, they were fast. One monster bounced off the defensive circle I had placed around the sleeping guard.

  The cattle lunged in their stalls, bawling with high-pitched ululations. The smell of their bowels letting loose was overwhelming. The demons were a particularly nasty version of three-legged screamers. They had no neck, large bulbous eyes, and protruding fangs around a mouth that fed directly to their gullet. Their single front leg had a huge ripping claw that flexed as they ran, making a disturbing clicking sound.

  There must have been ten of them. They came fast with their galumphing, stomping stride. They ignored the portal I’d opened for them. Something was wrong. The sight of so many screamers made me want to lie down and gibber until I woke up. Let this be a bad dream, I thought.

  The foremost screamer leaped and bounced off my protective circle as if he had hit a trampoline. I flinched and made a face as screamer drool ran down the outside of the circle as though it were a window. I could only wish the wards held out smells as well as they did bodily fluids. I ended up crouched with my arms around my knees, making myself as small as possible.

  Several cows had broken their stalls and tried to flee through the open barn door. Their panic and the smell of blood excited the screamers, who ignored the way home and gave chase. I dropped my protection circle for a second to make a wind spell closing the very real barn doors. I had never tried anything like that on the fly before. I couldn’t believe it worked. Maybe my desperation helped the spell. If the demons ran wild on the lot, I’d never get them back where they belonged. I replaced my protection circle before the screamers noticed it had dropped.

  The only bad thing about trapping the cows in the barn would be if one of the cows disturbed the protective circle around either me or the guard. Supernatural beings couldn’t cross the protection circle, but one hair of a natural creature like a cow would destroy any safety it provided.

  I didn’t have to worry. The loose cows piled up against the far barn doors, and the screamers were on them in a second, howling with a lusty slobbering glee.

  I couldn’t watch as the cows, terror in their eyes, were slaughtered. Looking at my hands, I opened the way wider and heard the demons—dragging their bawling meals—clamber through, disappearing into the depths of the Outlands. Another group of five screamers started into the barn from the side door, they galumphed through without giving the cows or me a second look. Over the next several minutes, five or six more of the disgusting monsters straggled in, singly or in pairs. When no more showed up after ten minutes, I slammed the way shut. I fell to my knees, mouth sour with adrenalin overload, tears streaming from my eyes.

  What was going on? I’d never heard of demons coming through in such large groups. Why had they come directly here to me? Where was the fairy I’d felt? There were too many questions for my exhausted brain to sort out right now. I lay down—actually, I fell over—in the mud my sweat had made. Luckily, I didn’t break the circle, which still held some protection. Then, amidst the smell of blood, shit, and demon, sleep took me as the storm crashed and banged outside.

  Chapter Five

  I awoke at dawn to Mister D’s worried face. “Are you all right, Airy?” he asked anxiously.

  I sat up so suddenly, I got dizzy and swayed for a moment against his legs. “I’m okay. How are the rest of the kids?” I croaked through a sandpaper throat.

  He handed me a liter bottle of energy drink. I drank it down without stopping for breath.

  “Everyone on the lot got undercover in time,” he said.

  Thank goodness, I thought. “I was afraid some were too drunk or high. I wasn’t sure they had the where-with-all to heed the warnings.”

  “The only one not accounted for is Amanda,” he said, rubbing his ear in consternation.

  “Oh no!” I had known Amanda and her husband Tom my whole life. They were the most trustworthy people at the carniva
l. They were always willing to lend a hand, feed you if you were broke, and listen when you were down. I even dated their son, Nate for a while. Tom was the first one there tonight when I yelled, “Hey, Rube”.

  Mister D saw my alarmed look. He gently touched my face. His hand pushed back the mud-crusted scarf that had shifted near my eyes. “She was in town when everything started. I’m sure she stayed over with someone to avoid the storm.”

  “I can…” I started.

  “You can take care of yourself first for a change. You Land girls are always trying to save the world. I know last night you sure saved the show,” he said, patting my cheek on the side not caked with salty mud. “Amanda will be fine.”

  I’d forgotten the beginnings of the storm last night. “There was a storm…” I started.

  “Your joint’s okay. I checked it on the way here,” he comforted me. I always thought Mister D had a little magic of his own. His gift was his ability to remember all the thousands of details involved in keeping the carnival running. He anticipated every need and problem, while never seeming rushed.

  I struggled to get up. I needed to eat and replenish my strength. I felt like someone had beaten me about the head and body with a large board. “I need to see Tom.”

  “Don’t worry about Amanda. She doesn’t have a cell phone. I’m sure she just stayed in town. She’ll turn up. We have a more pressing problem right now. How soon will the guard wake up?” He gestured toward the somnolent fellow snoring quietly in his circle.

  “I’ll make him sleep a while longer,” I replied, casting the spell with a thought and a flick of my hand over my eyes. “What are we going to do about this mess?”

  “Honey, I hate to ask you, but could you give the guard a little bruise on his head and knock the roof off the building,” he said sheepishly. “I think we can sell the idea that a tornado hit the barn during the storm last night. We have a good reputation in this town. We can take the heat.” At my alarmed look, he continued, “I had everyone stay by their trailers until I give the all clear, so you won’t have any witnesses.”