Chapter Four

It was almost dark. The sky had a glow, which lit my tent walls with translucent beauty. I had already triple checked my stakes. Zach flew up to the ridgepole. He was keeping an eye out for scrumptious tidbits dropped by inattentive waifs. Tonight, the pickings were slim. Most birds settle down after dark, but old black Zach had adapted to the carnival’s hours.

I couldn’t put my finger on what was bothering me. Something ominous hovered in the back of my mind. Maybe I was just out of sorts, because I could feel a storm coming. Storm or bad portent, it was a vague feeling I could really grasp. I have a few spells I can use pretty well, but I’m not always confident about my premonitions. I’m never sure my portents weren’t related to some digestive upset.

My Grammy had always known what her feelings foretold. She had been an amazing psychic, clairvoyant, and white witch. My Mom too, so they tell me. You would think all that ability would have kept them both from being killed, but it didn’t.

Mundane people of the work-a-day world don’t know magic is real, that true clairvoyants exist, or that there is another world next to ours full of scary things. The general public doesn’t want to know about the other land, which occasionally deposits unimaginable nastiness into our reality. They never know about people like my Mom and Grammy, who died trying to deal with supernatural situations that had gotten out of hand. Mom and Grammy went down protecting people who had no idea what kind of danger they faced, or who saved them.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Zach cawed insistently from the ridge of my tent. My jaw ached. I consciously unclenched it and relaxed my shoulders.

We Lands have rare skills even among the magically inclined. We can draw power straight from ley-lines—the magical energy lines that crisscross the Earth. It is a potent gift. I trained on how to use it when I was around ten, as soon as my magic developed. Drawing from ley-lines gave a person a lot of power, which could channel into all sorts of magic. It’s an awesome amount of energy that, if not controlled or if abused, can literally burn a person up.

I did some breathing exercises to relax. My leg started to shudder. I got up and checked my stakes again. The wind had started to freshen, but it was still hot as a sauna outside. Lightning flashed in distant clouds to the west.

I thought about my Uncle Terry who’d abused his power when I was little. The family used his story as a warning to the kids. Terry was trying to get back at a girlfriend, and he drew so much energy for a spell that he actually set his internal organs on fire.

Spontaneous combustion is not a pretty way to go. I read a book about it. They find a person’s leg or hand left over when the rest of the body has burned up. Science couldn’t explain what happened. I always thought those were cases of distracted magical practitioners, or screw-ups like Uncle Terry.

I know Grammy trained Uncle Terry to be a better practitioner than he turned out to be. Her first rules were, never make spells to hurt people, and never ever throw a spell when you were angry. I guess unrequited love and too much power can cause people to forget their good sense. Maybe looking for a husband wasn’t such a great idea after all.

I flopped into my chair and mopped my face. I had way too much introspection tonight. By the time I finished blotting, sweat dripped again. Screw the makeup. I scrubbed my face thoroughly.

The night dragged on. To have something to do, I shuffled my Tarot cards, missed an edge, and the cards flew all over the table.

“Oh crap,” I said under my breath. If this were a movie, a card would have flipped up, and I, the great mystic, would have been able to prognosticate several amazing omens at a single glance. All I saw was a mess. Sweat dripped on the cards as I picked them up. “Double crap.” From outside, Zach squawked a raucous caw, haw, haw, haw, haw. Stupid bird.

It was fully dark now, still hotter than hell. I should go out and try to talk up more business, but I had no energy. I sent a little more juice into my door banner hex in case someone walked by. Then, I put the cool crystal ball back in my lap. I opened a book on spells I’d found on a dusty shelf in a used bookstore in Detroit. The words crawled on the page. After I read the same paragraph for the third time, I gave up. I was not usually so restless.

I read a lot about different types of magic. Everyone needs a hobby. I have recipes for all kinds of spells and potions. If thieves ever realized the rare books and grimoires I have in my motor home, I’d have to do a lot more than set wards to protect them.

A couple in their thirties, wearing matching T-shirts that said ‘I’m with stupid’ wandered in. They were an easy read. They offered their own interpretation of the cards as I gave the standard reading. They bought a bottle of my love potion—also known as rehydrated passion fruit and kiwi juice. Great marks, no magic needed.

Grammy always said I could have an amazing amount of magical power if I put my mind to it. I guess I could do a lot of magical things, if I cared to, but I seldom bothered. Grammy might have been right, but it is better to stay under the radar in the supernatural world as far as I’m concerned. You’ll live longer.

Since Grammy died, the Carnies were my family. They kept me functioning when Grammy disappeared, and later when I found out she was dead. I read their cards and give advice. In turn, the Carnies make sure I’m not hassled by bad marks. They help me keep my motor home running. As crazy as most of them were, I will love them forever. Life’s not so bad. I’m content. What more can anyone ask?

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Over the calls of the busy talker at the Kooch Show, “Beauties from the far corners of the world…” I could hear the music from the Ferris wheel at the back of the lot. It was playing Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. I didn’t hear any other big rides running.

I shuffled my cards again. This time, I didn’t flub them all over the table. I drummed my fingers and bounced my right leg. I couldn’t get rid of the frown that crept onto my face.

Maybe I should try a spell to figure out what’s bothering me? Nah, it’s probably nothing. I try not to delve into preternatural problems unless I absolutely have to. Mostly, I use magic to avoid problems. I am especially good at placing wards, barriers sensitive to magical energies. I usually go with Skinny Phil, the advance man, to check out new locations before the carnival moves. I put up warding spells around the new grounds to keep any supernatural weirdness away.

By nine o’clock, I only had three more customers. I assured a set of newlyweds, who were still in the groping each other phase, that they would have a wonderful future together.

My final customer was a hugely obese woman who ate a whole funnel cake while I told her how her life was about to undergo a major change. It didn’t take a fortune teller to recognize the sweet smell of diabetes and puffiness of congestive heart failure. I gently counseled her to see a physician, hinting that a relationship might blossom in a medical setting.

* * * *

The unease I’d felt all day intensified. It definitely wasn’t related to the cold pizza I’d eaten for breakfast. I could not shake the jittery feeling in my stomach. I realized, even though it was early, I hadn’t heard any of the big rides running on the midway. The rib joint across from my tent had already closed down.

I put the crystal ball back on the table and saw a flash of my Grammy with her hands on her hips. She looked mad.

“Oh crap, crap, crap,” I muttered as I jumped up. When your dead grandmother scolds you from beyond the grave, you had better get moving.

I pulled the string as I dashed out. My heavy tent flap fell closed. Zach took off from his perch and flew into the darkness, cawing raucously. The wind had picked up, heralding the oncoming storm. Papers blew in tight swirls. Not one mark was in sight. This was usually the busiest time of night. How stupid could I be, sitting there feeling sorry for myself and not noticing.

“Janie,” I yelled to the squat woman organizing stuffed animals by the brightly lit ring toss stand. “Watch my place a minute.”

“Sure, Hon. What’s up?” she shouted at my retreating back.

“Got to check something. Be ready to close up,” I shouted over my shoulder. I ran past the various Elephant Ear, French fry, and Funnel Cake stands. There were almost no locals on the midway. I was so stupid. Slow night my ass! Something weird had scared off the townies. I cut between the empty kiddie rides, to the edge of the lot where I had placed the wards that were a deterrent to most supernatural creepiness. They serve as a warning to magical beings, like a mystical no trespassing sign.

Although there was nothing to see, I could feel the protective ward barrier, like a half-second of warm resistance, as I passed through. Then, it hit me—the palpable stink of demons nearby. My jaw ached with a vibration I had only felt before in the presence of a powerful fairy.

Panic tightened my throat. I turned within a step and dove back behind the invisible wards. Scrambling to my feet, I fought the urge to vomit. My pulse had painfully doubled its speed. My chest felt as though I had a lead weight implanted on my sternum. I had no time to be hysterical now.

Holding up my billowing skirts, I pelted back toward the midway and screamed with my best siren imitation, “Hey, Rube”. This universal call of the distressed Carney was guaranteed to alert everyone nearby.

Tom Chambers, the sword swallower, reached me first. Relief ran through me like cool water. Tom’s one of the most dependable men on the lot. Tall and angular, he seemed to be all knees and elbows, but I knew he was amazingly strong. He had a baseball bat in one hand.

“What is it, Airy?” He looked around for an immediate threat.

Popeye the Freak and Big Mike were on their way as well. Each carried whatever nearby weapon they’d found. Mike had a pipe, and Popeye had what looked like a two-by-four, held like a javelin. Seeing my friends calmed my racing heart. I knew what I needed to do.

“Something bad is coming, Tom. We have to get the townies off the lot. Everyone needs to hunker down,” I said, my mind racing. “It’s not a stand-up fight. If we can get everybody to their trailers, I’ll do what I can. Spread the word. Tell Mister D to meet me in the cattle barn.”

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 wards 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.