Carnival Charlatan

by Skeeter Enright

  “Oh, no. Please, no.” I didn’t want this. I closed the way and dropped the comb on the table. I dropped my head into my hands, covering my eyes, pressing so the tears wouldn’t come.

  I had spent most of my adult life trying to avoid dealing with the things from the Outlands. My mom had been the opposite. She sought out supernatural problems and dealt with them, until one of those problems killed her. One of my aunts let it slip that Mom had spent a lot of time on the other side of the veil between worlds, messing with the Fae. At least we had most of Mom to bury. Mom’s demise left my grandmother to raise me. A few years later, an occult mess drew Grammy in. She went to the Outlands and never came home. At least if I went down looking for Amanda, I wouldn’t be abandoning anyone.

  I tasted acid in my mouth. I couldn’t seem to open my eyes. I could tell Tom I wasn’t able to find Amanda. I could say I didn’t have enough skill. He would never know the difference. I jumped up and paced around my tiny home. Fairies! I had done my part last night. I had handled the demons—more demons than should ever be in one place on this side of the wall between the worlds. Nobody could ask for more from me. Why did fairies have to take Amanda? Nobody could expect me to go up against fairies on their own turf.

  Demons were bad enough. At least they were obvious—all big, lumpy, smelly, and generally ugly. They usually hide when they wander into our reality. Until last night, I hadn’t seen any who weren’t disoriented when they were on this side.

  Something must have been directing the monsters last night. Demons were not very smart. Most times, they just wandered around at night, looking for a way to get back home. Sure, they killed and ate people they happened upon. They’d definitely made a mess of the cows last night. Demons, if they were in heat, would rape both males and females, which was just bad luck for the person they caught. I know it sounds callous, but it is a fact. They don’t often catch people, because demons emanate a strong psychic field that scares off all but the most head-blind humans. That’s why the midway was so empty last night. Those demons must have been gathering for hours before they attacked.

  I started compulsively tidying my trailer. I stripped the muddy sheets from my bed and wiped sweat from my hands as I slammed books back into their shelves. Anyone walking by outside must have thought a mad poltergeist rampaged inside.

  I still couldn’t imagine any reason a witch would have to attack the carnival. Besides, the energy it would have taken to control so many demons would have left a whole Coven weak for months. It had to be the fairy I felt who’d called them—the sick bastard.

  I wish I knew the type of fairy I felt last night. The Fae can pass as human if they choose. A lot of them live on this side where the hunting is easier. There were so many of the vampire types of fairy on this side, they have their own political system. They don’t go far from the dinner table. Essentially, they’re here for the smorgasbord. I doubted it was a vamp who took Amanda. She would be dead or at least still in this world. Moreover, vampires wouldn’t have needed the screamers.

  I’d tell Tom I had no luck. I couldn’t find Amanda. The smell of the bathroom cleanser caused me to throw up. At least I think it was the smell. Lucky I was in the bathroom. I opened a window to air out the tiny room. I stumbled into the kitchen, drank a Coke, and ate some bread to get the taste out of my mouth.

  What did Amanda’s fairy father want with her? Why did they attack the carnival in such an obvious way? Creatures from the Outlands have a vested interest in keeping their existence from the mundane human world. Fairies were smart; they must have a good reason for last night’s incursion. Whatever the reason, very few of the Fae have any love of humans. The one who took Amanda might be the exception. Maybe now she was a fairy princess, living in luxury in a crystal castle in the Outlands, safe from harm. It could be true…yeah, right. The Sidhe use humans for all sorts of reasons. Most of them somehow related to the weird fairy politics of their world. I was not going to the Outlands and getting mixed up in the supernatural power structure.

  I had scrubbed all my pots and pans and was starting to sweep the floor when my injured leg gave out. I sat straddle-legged on the floor. Tears ran down my face. I sobbed so hard, I had the hiccups.

  What was happening to Amanda?

  I used a paper towel to blow my running nose. The aches of last night seemed to expand and take over most of my conscious thought. I hurt so badly. I couldn’t help Amanda. I couldn’t help anyone. I crawled to my bed and curled myself in the center.

  As soon as I drew my legs up, the overwhelming fear ceased as though someone had turned a switch off in my head. I could breathe regularly again. My cut leg still hurt, but nothing I couldn’t handle. What just happened? I sat up. What just changed? Then it hit me. Grammy had an inlaid metal summoning circle built into the bed platform. The circle, actually a rectangle, surrounded my mattress. It was acting like a like a permanent protection circle.

  Someone had put a panic spell on me. Son-of-a-bitch! A panic spell, like I was some head-blind mark who could be manipulated. Now that just made me mad. Amanda needed me. She was my friend. By the bell and book, she was a Carney. She was family. Some dammed monster had her. I was going to go get her, no matter how scared I was. I just had to be smart about it.

  Whoever took her thought they could throw me off with a panic spell. Well, Mother Land’s little girl was not going to fall for that one. I stepped off my bed and felt the buzz of panic start. I quickly went to my occult tool bench—also known as my dining table—and pulled out some things. The procedure for making an amulet against personally directed spells is simple, but I pulled out my most reliable grimoire just to be sure. A half hour later, the amulet around my neck, I felt the relief from the spell. I was scared spitless, but it was my own fear. I was in control.

  I could probably wait and call up reinforcements. Try to find Mike Stone’s coven. They were close, but I didn’t know if they would want to help. Amanda wasn’t their concern. I could call on my witch and wizard family, but they were scattered around the country. The problem was time. It moved differently on the Outlands. It ebbed and flowed like currents along a ragged coast. Amanda had been gone less than a day here, but, depending on her location, hours, weeks, or months could have passed on the Outlands. I couldn’t wait for reinforcements. I had to get Amanda, and do it soon. There was no one else who could.

  I ate again. I would need all my strength for what I had to do. I got out a pad of paper to figure out what I was going to need to travel to the Outlands and survive. While I worked, my mind strayed to the night Grammy disappeared. She had made a list on a yellow legal pad just like the one I was using. I squelched the memory. I had to focus.

  I left my immaculate trailer and rolled out the awning to get some shade. I pulled a chair and small table from the compartment, which used to hold the generator. Zach the crow landed on the ground a few feet away. He ruffled his feathers to get my attention and said, “hell’o” in his raspy voice. He eyed me intently as he sharpened his beak on the rope that kept the canvas from flapping.

  Myra came up smoking a joint. The semi-transparent tank top she was wearing with no bra did not show off her attributes in a favorable way. “You look like warmed over shit,” she said cheerfully.

  “Thanks, that’s just the look I was going for,” I replied. “Hon, don’t get too close. I can’t risk a contact high right now. I’m working spooky stuff, looking for Amanda,” I told her, holding up a hand to ward her off.

  “Your leg looks bad there, Miss Buzz Kill. Since my weed is not wanted here, I’ll go get Doc for you.” She sniffed as though she was holding back a sob, grinned, flipped me the bird, and stalked off, her flip flops thwocking with every step.

  Great, I thought, I’m going into one of the most dangerous places imaginable, and I’m worried high Myra is ticked at me. I closed my eyes and controlled my breathing, to put myself into a mild meditative state. I went inside and let the shower run on me until the water poured out cold. Running w
ater to rinse away stray magical energies. I couldn’t afford any distractions today.

  When I came back out wrapped in my fluffy blue robe with Tweety Bird stitched on the shoulder, Doc sat under my awning with a beer in hand. It looked like more than one person was taking advantage of the unexpected free day.

  “Came a while back, but you didn’t sound like you wanted company,” he said and tilted his bottle up as if he were playing a brown trumpet.

  Doc had turned up a couple of seasons ago. He had quickly become a fixture at the carnival. He was the most nondescript person I had ever seen. Dull brown hair, eyes to match, average height, and average build; I doubt anyone would remember him even if he stepped on their foot. I don’t know if he is a real doctor. We don’t ask many personal questions on the lot. That is what attracts most people to the Carney way of life. Doc usually ran the Ferris wheel, but he was the go-to guy for minor medical issues. He could stitch wounds and set bones. Most importantly, he was a great booster—a source of drugs for those in need. His medical kit, a battered toolbox that had once been orange a time long ago, was at his feet.

  “Boss said you got snake bit.” Doc wasn’t one for pleasantries, which was one of the reasons I liked him.

  “I cleaned it out. I’m all right,” I replied.

  “Yeah, yeah. Show me your leg,” he said gruffly.

  I sat on the edge of the chair, wishing I had shaved my legs, pulled my makeshift bandage off, and turned to show him the gash along my calf.

  “It’ll take some stitches. You should have come see me sooner. It’s not good to stitch a cut that deep after so much time,” he looked at me critically. “You’ll need a shot in the ass.”

  “You trying to get me out of my pants, Doc?” That got a smile from him.

  “You got any on?” He shook his head as he got out the biggest needle I had seen outside of a veterinarian’s office.

  I’d always liked Doc. If he ever wanted to get something going with me, I was willing. Unfortunately, he never made a pass. I would continue to flirt and keep my hopes up.

  A horse-size shot and five stitches later, Doc was packing his toolbox when he turned to me and asked, “You got any of that hangover remedy you make? A lot of the kids are getting hammered, to forget what they saw last night. They’ll be hurting tomorrow.”

  “Sure, Doc. I’ll get it for you.” I looked back at him as I went into the trailer. His head was down, and he was kicking a rut in the dirt. “Doc?” I asked. He looked up. I continued, “You going to need some?”

  “Airy, I never saw anything like those…creatures last night. It messes with your head.” His eyes were haunted. He drained his beer and threw the bottle into my trash bucket.

  “I’d tell everybody it was bad hooch or something,” I said. “People like to have an easy answer.”

  He nodded, with his head hanging and his shoulders hunched.

  In my trailer, I found the hangover powder. I always had a bunch on hand. It was my best seller on the lot. Doc thanked me and trudged wearily away.

  I sat back down and grabbed my favorite book of spells. I couldn’t erase the memory of the screamers without hurting my friends, but I could change a memory for the ones, like Doc, who wanted to forget. Fifteen minutes later, the images of the screamers had changed to stampeding cattle for anyone who had started drinking already today. They may still have the odd nightmare, but at least they wouldn’t need to adjust their perception of reality. If they really thought about last night, they would remember what actually happened. If I didn’t leave that option in the spell, they would all go crazy. I don’t know if adjusting memories was a good thing, but I do know some of the Carnies have a shaky grasp of reality. I was sure I was doing them a favor.

  My next stop was Janie’s trailer, or should I say Janie’s garden. Janie had painted the whole trailer with flowers. A rose arbor circled the door. Petunias, pansies, snapdragons, lilacs, and ivy filled in every other available space.

  A steady stream of inventive profanity alerted me to Janie’s location. Janie sure had a remarkable vocabulary for someone who looked like Norman Rockwell’s grandmother. I have heard it said sailors came to her for swearing lessons.

  I could see the bottoms of her tiny work boots sticking out from under the back of the trailer. “Janie,” I called out.

  “Son-of-a-bitching plumbing,” was her reply. She scooched out from under the trailer and dusted off the front of her bibs. “Did you find Amanda?”

  “I’m working on it. It looks like I’m going to have to go over to the dark side to get her,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to look directly at Janie.

  Janie regarded me critically. I tried not to let her see how scared I was. She knew what I was facing. As a contemporary of my grandmother, she had heard the stories first hand. She had seen what was left of my mom.

  “You going to go wearing that?” She indicated my fluffy robe with Tweety Bird wide-eyed at my shoulder.

  “Well, that’s the thing,” I said. “You know the chain mail Freddie wore when he did the knight in armor bit? Do you think you could borrow it for me?” Freddie was Janie’s current…I don’t know what you’d call it for someone their age. Fuck buddy sounded too gross for a senior citizen. Maybe “friend with benefits” was more descriptive. In any case, Freddie didn’t like me. He thought I was a total fraud. I couldn’t ask him for the long-sleeved shirt with a hood made of steel links. Besides, I flipped him off this morning, and he wouldn’t forget that soon. Freddie was mean as a snake.

  “Sure, I’ll get it from him. What do you need it for? Mary never used anything like that,” she mused. I didn’t remind her that Grammy Mary hadn’t come back the last time she went to the Outlands.

  “Steel is deadly to all sorts of monsters. The shirt could keep me alive,” I said with alacrity, not mentioning how steel links would also protect me from the teeth and claws of some of the other denizens in the Outlands as well.

  Her expression became less shrewd. “I’ll go get it right away. Don’t you worry.”

  “Thanks, Janie. You’re a life saver.” I said with a sigh. “I have to go see Tom now. I want to get going quick as possible.”

  Janie gave me a hug.

  I started to tear up, so I turned away and wiped my eyes. I took a big breath and turned back to my sweet, old, foul-mouthed friend. “Janie, you know I might be gone for a while.”

  “Don’t you worry about your rig. If you’re not back by tear down, I’ll take care of your place. I’ll get Moe to drive mine. I can take yours to the next stop. You know the route. You and Amanda can catch up once you’re back.” She was very matter-of-fact considering I was going to another dimension, not to Poughkeepsie.

  Chapter Seven

  “Tom, Amanda was taken by fairies.” Even as I said it, I realized how stupid it sounded. At Tom’s skeptical look, I continued using a steady lecturing tone. As simply as I could, I told Tom where I thought Amanda was. He looked at me steadily as I described the Outlands, the Fae, and demons, and…I didn’t think he was getting it. I couldn’t tell if he thought I was delusional or just messing with him.

  “I’m coming along.” Tom was emphatic.

  I guess he believed me.

  “You can’t come, Tom. You have no idea what you would be getting into. I wouldn’t know how to protect you.” Deep in my heart, I wanted to take Tom along. I did not want to go to the Outlands alone. I was such a coward.

  “I can protect myself,” he sputtered.

  “Did you look out the window last night?”

  Tom’s face hardened. “I did. I saw the monsters, and I didn’t hide under the bed. I can face them for Amanda.”

  “Tom, there are things worse than what you saw last night over there. Myths and legends come from somewhere. A lot of them come from the Outlands.”

  “Ghosties and goulies, and long legged beasties don’t frighten me. Losing Amanda does.” His jaw muscles rippled and clenched. “I need to find her. How can I tell the boys
I didn’t try.” He spread his arms in a pleading gesture. Tom and Amanda’s two sons were in college.

  Tom had a right to go. Amanda was his wife. I closed my eyes and nodded. I hoped I was not making a mistake that would get Tom killed.

  “We’re not going in to fight. We have to deal with the fairies who took her. A lot of fairies look like us, but they don’t think like us. I have studied them and might be able to get us in and out safely. I’m going to try to bargain with them.” Boy, was I being optimistic. I had never even talked to a fairy before.

  “Why in the world did…fairies,” he choked on the word. “Why would they take Amanda?”

  “I have a clue,” I said. “I don’t suppose Amanda ever told you about her father.”

  “Sure, he was a liberty rider in a circus.”

  “Was he her biological father or just married to her mom?” I doubted Tom knew, but I needed all the information I could get.

  “She never said he wasn’t her real dad.” His frown showed he had lost my direction.

  “I don’t think he was her natural father. Her mom said her dad was a fairy.”

  “Her mom? She’s been dead nearly twenty years.” He looked skeptical.

  I shrugged. “You know how sometimes I get insights.”

  Tom nodded.

  “Well, I really can do magic.”

  “If I didn’t see what I saw last night, I would be calling for the men in white coats about now.” He rubbed his eyes. “Airy, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. You don’t go in for nonsense. You wouldn’t steer me wrong.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Let’s go get Amanda.”

  Two hours later, arrangements made, we stood in my tent. Word had gotten around the lot. A bunch of people had come and offered to go with us—Skinny Phil, Big Mike, Popeye, and even Doc would have been good to have if it came to a fight, but we had to turn them away. I wouldn’t risk anyone else.

  Myra, bless her heart, even offered to go. When I turned her down, she handed me eight of the cheap steel rings they sell in the junk shops on the midway. Each had a large skull.