Everything I had ever read about the Wild Hunt of the Fae fled my brain behind the fact that the hunt never lost its prey. I stood frozen in place. One of the riders was King Mechtán. “Hey, Little Bit,” I said, barely moving my lips. “Can you make yourself invisible?” I felt an up and down jittering in my hair. “Well, do it quick. King Mechtán is here. We’re both in trouble if he sees you.”
“I think we’re in trouble regardless,” the tiny voice whispered in my ear. Just what I needed—a pixie with a knack for understatement.
My mouth was dry. It tasted bitter with adrenalin. I could see only three options. Curling up in a ball and hoping they would all go away. Though my first instinct, it didn’t seem like a practical plan. I could just make a way and go for a swim, but with old Mechtán in charge of kelpies, nixies, and assorted other Water Fae, I didn’t like my chances in the lake. Finally, I could just brazen it out and hope they quit looking at me as though I were lunch.
Shoulders back, I flipped my hair casually off my face, and decided to go for brazen. Go with your strengths, Grammy always told me.
“I am the Daughter of Sylvan, Mage of the Land. Why have I been accosted thusly?” I wasn’t sure thusly was a word, but it sounded bold.
A remarkably beautiful Fae woman in a green gown dismounted the green-feathered iguana looking creature she had ridden. A gesture of her hand dispersed the slavering hounds. The iguana grabbed one of the dogs and gulped it down with hideous crunching sounds. The woman looked at me and smiled. I think brazen was one of her strengths, too.
Luckily, my mouth was too dry for me to swallow. Gooseflesh raised on every exposed bit of my body. Focus, Airy.
Her next gesture effortlessly brought down my protective circle. By the bell and the book, only the most ancient and powerful beings could disrupt a circle. She must be one of the Queens. I could feel Little Bit shivering against my neck.
“What brings you to our world without permission, Mage of the Land?”
Her low, contralto voice brought tears to my eyes. My impulse was to throw myself at her feet and beg forgiveness. I was so out of my league. I had no excuse they would accept. I caught myself before I could move. Brazen…be brazen.
“I have come…” Mechtán’s horse stomped and snorted, chewing its bit. I smiled, “…to let King Mechtán know his kin is safe in my world, and I am keeping my promise to him.”
She looked inquiringly at Mechtán. He nodded. She smiled. It felt like the sun rising after a month of darkness. I took a breath I had not realized I had been holding.
A bearded giant, mounted on an equally giant black horse, shouldered to the front of the crowd. It was hard to tell where the man’s beard began and the horse’s mane left off. “Ride with me, Daughter mine.” He reached down with one arm.
What next, I thought.
“You must ride,” said the Pixie’s voice next to my ear. “On the ground, you are prey. The hunt will take you in our world or yours.”
“Hi, Daddy. Nice to finally meet you,” I said and took the extended arm. He flung me behind him onto the broad back of the horse. I just had time to think I’d mounted on the wrong side, when the hounds bounded off, closely followed by the huntsmen.
The rolling stride of the horse was not hard to ride, but the speed was incredible. I held tight around my father’s waist. The wind brought tears to my eyes. I tucked my face into his back. His flowing hair covered me. I could feel the pixie clinging to my shoulder and hair. The shoes I had stolen from the crazy killer were gone in minutes. My bare legs under my makeshift skirt rubbed raw. I didn’t dare let go. I felt us pass through a way into my world, then, after some time, back to the Outlands. The hounds’ wails changed occasionally. I heard shrieks, which were not from the huntsmen. I didn’t want to think about the prey.
It had been one hell of a day. We had been running for what seemed like hours. Exhaustion overcame my sense of self-preservation. I was out of adrenaline. My grip started to fail. My father reached around and grabbed my arm. In one swift motion, he pulled me around into his lap. He cradled me in one arm as if I were a five–year-old. The wind of our passage whipped my hair to mix with his and the horse’s mane. He smelled of cookies and a spice I couldn’t identify. I reached up and felt the cleft in his chin, then felt my own. I could see his smile under the black beard. He had kind eyes. I have to admit, despite the screaming of the huntsmen, baying of the hounds, and thunder of hooves, I fell asleep, rocking in my father’s arms.
Chapter Thirty-Two
He watched the witch disappear as he came into the room. Gone to Hell, he hoped. He fell to his knees in the place where she had been. “God, I have failed you.” The sigil he had made burned in his pocket. The weight of his failure crushed him. He began to pray, “How can I serve you, Lord? I have faithfully followed your word. Show me the witch, so I may cleanse the earth of her satanic taint.” He rocked until his knees ached. The pain gave him some relief from his inner turmoil. He stripped off his shirt. From his bag, he pulled the flail. It was what the Lord desired of him. His smile was ecstatic as the barbed tips bit into his back. He would find the Carnival Witch again. Until then, there were others. The sigil was made.
The first witch his ancestor had cleansed was Bridget Bishop. Her descendent was a member of the Washed in the Blood Church. Randolph Bishop had not attended the Sunday or Wednesday sermons for the past two weeks, even though his wife and children had come regularly to church. Obviously, he was not a devout man. The taint of his blood must be cleansed.
Parris’s car sputtered and ground for at least a minute before it started. The witch must have jinxed it, he thought. He savored the flashing lights as he drove past the carnival grounds. The big man had no right to interfere. He deserved to die.
At the church, he asked the bubble-headed secretary, Carla, “Could you find a hymnal for me? I’d like to choose the songs for my next sermon.”
“Of course, Reverend. I’ll run and get you one right now,” she simpered. She stopped in the doorway. He wanted her out of there, the cow, but he looked at her with politely raised eyebrows.
“Would you like to come to supper with our family after church this Sunday?” she asked. When he made no immediate response, she continued, “It would be me, my sister, her husband, and the kids. Nothing too fancy. I just thought you might like a home-cooked meal, since you’re on the road so much.”
He wished she would just leave. He was in a hurry, but he forced a smile. “I would be honored to have a meal with your family.”
“That’s just wonderful,” she bubbled. “Well, I’ll go get the hymnal for you now.” She scurried out.
Finally, he thought as he went through the church address book. He scribbled down the address and Randolph’s work number on a discarded envelope, and stuffed it in his pocket. When Carla returned, he accepted the hymnal from her graciously. He would find an excuse to get out of the dinner later. Now, he had God’s work to do.
Reverend Parris stopped and bought five gallons of gasoline on his way to the Bishop home. The house was empty. The lock was simple enough to pick. He called the work number from the home phone.
“Ace Plumbing.” The voice of a bored secretary greeted him.
“This is Detective Smith of the Illinois State Police. Do you have a Randolph Bishop working there?” Parris said, without trying to change his voice.
“Well…yes. How can I help you?” She sounded wary.
“We need Mister Bishop to come home immediately. There has been an accident.”
“What happened?”
“I can’t disclose any information. We need Mister Bishop here as soon as possible.”
“I’ll let him know right away.” Her voice raised an octave.
The stage was set. Parris marveled at how easy this had been. Each time he lured one of the wicked, they practically walked into his arms. God was truly guiding his way.
Less than an hour later, a car came screeching to a halt on the street. A short, port
ly man wearing coveralls rushed through the door calling, “Linda?”
The Reverend swung the son’s baseball bat and put Randolph Bishop down with a single blow. The man was still breathing, so the fire would effectively cleanse him.
Parris placed the sigil in the sinner’s shirt pocket and doused him with gasoline. A trail of gas led to the kitchen door, where he knelt to pray that this descendent of evil could be forgiven. When the malefactor stirred, Parris lit a match. He dropped it on his way out the door. The screams didn’t start until he was in the alley. With a smile, he muttered a fervent “Amen.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The police were getting nowhere questioning the Carney spokesman. Craig slipped under the tape and went to Ariel’s motor home. Somebody had opened the crow’s cage. It sat on the table and said, “Hell’o,” as Craig walked up. Peeking in the window, he saw the dishes were still in the sink, and the goldfish was on the table. She wasn’t there.
An older man wearing khakis and a polo shirt caught up with him as he headed back to the crime scene. “Did you come back and pick up Airy this morning?” the man asked without preamble.
“Uh…no…I’m looking for her. Do you know where she is?” Craig asked. He felt a weight in his stomach.
“No one has seen her since you left this morning. She said you thought some guy might be looking for her.” The crease in the man’s brow spoke volumes.
“Shit, did anyone see a tall white man with a large mole on his face, hanging around?”
“I’ll ask,” the man replied and hurried off.
Back at the murder scene, he approached Detective Madison. “We have a missing girl. She’s one of the Carnies. Her disappearance may be linked to my person of interest in a possible serial case.” Craig knew he was out on a limb here, but if Parris had Ariel, she didn’t have a lot of time.
“Could she be my suspect?” Madison asked.
Craig thought for a minute. How much did he really know about Ariel, other than the hallucination he had when he looked in her eyes. He knew she wasn’t a murderer, but he had no concrete evidence she shouldn’t be a suspect. “I doubt it, but I know if you treat her like a suspect, you’ll get no cooperation from the Carnies. I have a tenuous lead on some loosely related murders. It’s possible the missing woman may be a victim, and this guy was collateral damage. I have someone asking questions among the Carnies. I’ll know more when he reports back.”
Madison nodded, his expression blank. Craig could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “We have some blood and a piece of a shirt on the fence, which could be someone getting dragged over. Let’s run it like there was an abduction for now.”
Craig felt the tension in his shoulders ease a tiny bit.
The Coroner’s van carrying the body moved out, and the crowd of Carnies dispersed.
The handsome carnival spokesman came up to Craig and Madison. “No one has seen Ariel since this morning.” He gave Craig a significant look. “No one saw the guy you were looking for, but someone saw an old blue car with a bad muffler leaving the lot, just before we found Mike. It wasn’t a car we recognized.”
Craig caught Madison’s eye. Madison said, “Are you sure we can’t interview the witnesses personally? It would really help find the person who did this.”
The man shook his head. “Our experience with police is to be treated like scum. My people are understandably reticent about talking. They would be too nervous to give you anything useful. What I’ve told you is everything we know. If anyone remembers anything else, I’ll call you immediately. We want this solved as much as you do. Mike was a good guy, and Airy is one of us. We want her back.”
Madison sighed and said, “Thank you for your input, Mister Jones. Let me know if anyone thinks of anything else. You have my card. We will do everything we can to find the young lady and Mister Murphy’s murderer.”
When they were alone again Craig said, “My person of interest drives a ’94 blue Dodge Colt, four-door sedan.”
“A little too much coincidence,” agreed Madison without prompting. Let me get a BOLO out on the car. Then you can tell me about your person of interest.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Waking up not knowing where I am was becoming a habit I’d like to break. I ached in muscles I didn’t know I had. The cuts on my back and arms throbbed. My legs hurt where the horse’s coat had rubbed them raw. Was there such a thing as getting a horse burn?
At least the bed was soft, the bedding luxurious. The sheets had to be eight hundred count, and the comforter was taupe silk. The rest of the room was equally well appointed in pale blue and cream. High sconces gave off a golden light. Daddy has some nice digs. Then I realized there were no windows and nothing that looked like a door. How do I get out of here?
I was naked under the covers. I didn’t want to think about who took the clothes I’d been wearing. My muscles screamed as I got up. There was a basin with water and a washcloth. I did what I could for my ravaged thighs and cleaned my cuts. A silver comb and mirror allowed me to take care of the rat’s nest that had formed in my hair. I combed out a pop can tab. I wondered what happened to the pixie who warned me about the Wild Hunt. I hoped the little fellow got away safely.
The room had an ornately carved wardrobe rather than a closet. It revealed brand new clothes in my size, even underwear. Considering the circumstances, I didn’t mind wearing cotton granny panties. I quickly pulled on a snug pair of jeans, wincing as they stuck to my oozing legs. A cute lace bra and a V-necked jersey blouse gave me some small sense of dignity. The tennis shoes I found in a box fit perfectly. Dressed, I was ready for whatever came next.
I needed to get back to Chicago. I didn’t want the Reverend Parris to get away with killing Mike. I made a portal to my world but heard the wind howling and felt the snow even before I stuck my head through and saw an arctic plain. Obviously, nowhere near Chicago.
Plan B. When you’re worried or in doubt…run in circles, scream and shout. “Hello,” I said loudly, feeling stupid talking to an empty room. “Is anybody listening? I need to get home.” I realized I smelled like horse sweat. “Can I at least get a shower?” No response was forthcoming. I walked around testing the walls, to see if I could find a magical exit. One section of the stone wall gave me a little tingle, but I was too afraid to extend my senses to see if it was a portal. I’d save it for later, when I was more desperate.
I didn’t have a lot of magical juice in this dimension. I didn’t want to waste any. Aunt Lila had given me some spells against fairy magic; however, there was nothing here to work with. All the spells required herbs, candles, and specific metals. I guess I was going to have to rely on family ties and my winning personality. I suppose I could find a way to be pleasant to Daddy Dearest.
I tried sitting in one of the chairs, but my legs hurt as the jeans creased, so I lay back down on the bed. The last thing I remembered, before waking up here, was riding with my father. He did keep me from getting killed, which was a couple points on the parent meter, but why did he put me in a room with no door or windows? I was hungry and thirsty. I tried to remember the last time I had eaten or had anything to drink. Locking your daughter up and not feeding her was definitely points off.
Even with the whole murder, kidnap, meet the dad thing running through my head, I fell back to sleep. I dreamed of Mike. I should have been nicer to him. In my dream, I was trying to thank Mike and apologize for getting him killed. He just stood there with the gaping hole in his neck, holding the charm I had given him. The knife had cut the string. I tried to explain how it was only protection against magic. He finally looked at me and said, I’m glad you’re my friend, with blood bubbling out of his mouth.
Warm arms held me. Half awake, I rolled to snuggle, and the jeans ripped the new scabs off my legs. “Shee’ it,” I shouted and sat up.
“Oh, Sister. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?” Sam slid off the bed. He knelt next to me.
“What in three universes are yo
u doing?”
“You were crying in your sleep. I wanted to comfort you.” His head tilted down, and he looked at me from under his bangs. He looked like a four-year-old who’d been scolded.
I couldn’t stay mad when he looked so contrite. I heaved a sigh and said, “How did you know I was here?”
“Everyone was worried that you were missing. A sylph, called Little Bit, told me you had ridden with Father during the hunt, so I came.” He smiled his beautiful smile.
“Did you tell Mister D you knew where I was?” I just realized how worried everyone would be, with Mike dead and me missing.
“Oh, yes. He told me to take care of you,” he said absently. “You know, I have never been honored to ride with the hunt. You are lucky, my sister.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. I don’t feel lucky. Mike’s dead. I was kidnapped by the murderer, attacked by killer hounds, and woke up in a locked room with all the skin worn off my legs. I’m hungry, I need a shower, and I have probably lost another month’s work. So no, I don’t feel honored. I just want to go home.”
Sam’s eyes had gotten bigger, and he stepped back from the bed as I ranted. “I brought you food,” he said in a small voice.
“You know I can’t eat or drink food from here.” I eased myself off the bed, creaking in every joint.
Sam handed me a bottle of water. “I brought it from your world. It is safe for you,” he said. The bottle had a price sticker from Grab it Quik. I still looked at it skeptically. “I promise it is safe. It is safe for you,” Sam repeated.
Aunt Lila had told me anything a Fairy said three times would be truth. I swigged down the water. He handed me a Subway sandwich. I took a big bite. It was turkey with provolone heaven. Despite a mouth full of sandwich, I said, “Okay, time to go home now.”
Carnival Charlatan Page 18
