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VAL WALKED TOWARD THE truck. When his gaze met Estele’s, his face lit. “Guess what? All the crewmen drank the enchanted coffee and a few of them didn’t even have to be forced. Marge can be very persuasive. Everyone’s alert and ready to cope. The only problem is they’re starving and have a lot of questions. Me and Bruno have a ton of burritos to roll.” He pointed over his shoulder as he climbed aboard the truck and shut the door. “I better get to work.”
A mob of people, including Madame Shamansky, were headed their way expecting food.
Now what? Estele studied the lamp. Maybe they shouldn’t be talking in front of Luther. Just because he wasn’t making an appearance didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of what was being said. If she wasn’t careful, the entire plan to battle the rising bubble of malevolence might be jeopardized.
Oh my Goddess! I’m thinking ahead. The moment she thought it, gooseflesh prickled her arms. There wasn’t even any need to check in with the Heart of Hecate to know if this was a valid idea or not, she already knew the answer. How amazing was that. Was that a sign that her intuition was working more efficiently than it normally did? She chose to heed the warning and walked to the door of the truck and knocked.
Val opened the door, already wearing a hairnet and plastic gloves. “What’s wrong? You look worried.”
“Do you have a pencil and pad of paper handy?”
He appeared concerned and his gaze drifted toward the approaching crowd. “Sure. It might take a moment to get it.”
“I’ll wait.”
He ducked inside the cab of the truck and returned a minute later with a pen and a small ledger. “Is this okay?”
She took the items from his hands. “Yes.” Wasting no time, she scribbled the words: “DO YOU HAVE A HEAVY POT WITH A TIGHT-FITTING LID?” and showed the message to Val.
Val glanced inside a steel cupboard. “We have several. How big?”
She pointed to the lamp.
“Ah.” He reached for a large pressure cooker. “I have the perfect recipe for that dish.” Unlocking the thick steel top of the cooker, he took the lamp from Estele’s hand and set it on the bottom of the pot, then replaced the lid with a half twist to secure it. He exhaled as he glanced at her. “Do you really think that will hold Luther?”
“I have no idea, but I’m pretty sure he can’t hear us right now. Either way, he knows we’re onto him. How much time do we have until the bubble of malevolence goes kabluey?”
“I don’t have a divination tool. The bubble of malevolence exploded the links of my dagger chain one by one, remember.”
That was bad news. What else was ready to explode?
This was not the time to panic. Too many innocent people would get caught in the crosshairs. “Improvise. Anything can be a divination tool. Choose a metallic object and pour your intentions onto it.”
Val reached for a large steel fork, the sort used to grab food off the grill. “How about this?”
“Give it a whirl.”
“Okay.” Val set the fork down on top of the pressure cooker. “Now what?”
“I meant that literally. Give it a whirl. Let’s see how the fork reacts to your intentions.”
A crowd of hungry people arrived at the window of the truck and began shouting orders.
Bruno stuck his head out the door and called to Val. “What’s going on? You’re wasting time. I need your help serving these guys and getting more enchanted food ready to hand out when the fairgoers get here.”
“Just a moment, Tio.” Val tapped the fork and gave it a firm push. It began to whirl like a compass. He muttered to himself but she overheard. “Where is the energy level at? How close are we to reaching critical mass?”
Estele watched in horror as the fork stopped whirling, lifted vertically onto its tines, and quivered midair. Slowly, the fork began to curve as if it were performing a back bend, until eventually it arched back onto itself, forming a circle. “Uh-oh. What does that mean? Has the energy come full circle? Are we running out of time?”
“Val! Get in here.” Bruno sounded overwhelmed. “They opened the front gate. There are at least a thousand people walking in.”
“Oh shit! We are so unprepared. Just do your best.” She pointed to the pressure cooker. “Stash that somewhere safe.”
Val picked up the steel pot and carried it onto the truck. “Where are you going?”
Marge walked over and took hold of Estele’s arm. “She’s coming with me. Remember the tent of psychic wonders? It’s ready and waiting.”
Estele wasn’t sure this was the best time to wander off with the carnival’s psychic, but Marge’s grip on her arm was insistent. “I guess we’ll walk around a while and see if we notice anything unusual.”
“Wait.” He held his hand out. “Give me your phone.”
She reached into her purse to retrieve it. “Here.” She gave it to Val.
With a few quick stabs of his thumb, he pressed a series of numbers. “Now I’m on speed dial. Call me before things get unusual.”
“I will.” Against her better judgment, she allowed Marge to lead her away. “Where are we going?”
“You’re going to work.” Marge slipped a sky-blue turban on her head and tucked her hair underneath. “See that line forming in front of the white tent?”
“Yes.” A bad feeling took hold. What was up?
“That’s home base for Madame Shamansky, the all-seeing eye of destiny. You’re Estele, seer of the Akash, remember? The gates just opened and we already have a shitload of customers. It’s time to get to work.”
She halted. “We can’t pretend to tell people’s fortunes when we know that evil djinn are planning an attack on the fairgrounds!”
“Look, sweetie, nothing has blown up yet. The psychic prediction business is fickle. You have to catch folks on the right day. Some months it’s the only personal money I earn. There is no way I’m turning my back on that many people eager to hear something positive about their future. Until something more pressing comes along, I’m peering into my crystal ball and swiping debit cards.”
An epiphany hit. Maybe Marge’s idea was a good one after all. She studied the terrain of the fairgrounds. The tent of psychic wonders sat smack-dab in the center of the midway, at ground zero, so to speak. Maybe it wasn’t the worst place to spend a little quiet time and tune in.
Estele glanced over her shoulder. “Fredi, get over here!”
Fredi looked up from sipping coffee from a paper cup. “What?”
“Don’t make me shout. Just come over here.” Estele waved Fredi over.
Taking long, graceful strides like she was strutting down a catwalk, Fredi approached. Fredi made confidence look effortless and she always knew how to put the beautiful in “big beautiful woman.” The crewmen were staring at her with their tongues hanging out.
Estele intercepted Fredi before Marge could interfere. “How sensitive are your extra senses performing today?”
With a deep exhalation, Fredi became somber. “What the hell is going on? You called me before dawn because of some sort of emergency. I had no idea what to expect but once I’m down here, I feel like I’m an iron filing standing in front of an industrial magnet. This is crazy. What’s happening beneath our feet?”
Placing her hand on her heart, Estele sighed. “Thank Goddess you feel it too! I wasn’t sure how I would explain it. Basically, there’s evil building underneath the fairgrounds and Val thinks it’s getting ready to blow. Who knows what will happen when it cuts loose, but I have a bad feeling the repair and restore spell will come in mighty handy today.”
Tapping the top of her boot, Fredi grinned. “I brought a second fully charged wand just in case I burned one to the ground. What are we up against?”
“I’m not sure.”
Fredi made a sour face. “I should have brought three wands to buy me the tactical time to reload. I saw one djinn added to the soup pot, but where’s the other?”
Good question. Where was that other tricky djinn? “We don’t know, and that’s where I think you could be helpful. Marge wants me to work her psychic tent of wonders with her, but I think I should be boots on the ground doing recon. Would you sit in for me?”
“What would I have to do?”
“What you do naturally.” She had to convince and recruit the most powerful witch she knew, no small feat. “Read people’s Akashic records and say something charming about them.”
Fredi’s cool blue eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t easily charm people. I intimidate them. I’m a glamour witch. It’s what I do.”
“I’ve known you since witchlets school. You can be very charming when you have to be.”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to sit on my ass and charm people while all hell gathers fury beneath our feet?”
“Yeah.” It was true, what more could she say?
“Okay, but just for an hour or two.” Fredi examined the edge of a manicured fingertip. “This is a serious situation. You’re going to need me working the field with you.”
Once again her intuition kicked in, and she didn’t need the Heart of Hecate to light up like a Christmas ornament to remind her that this was the time to show some courage and leadership and not back down to Fredi as she usually did. She opened her mouth and something unexpected came out. “Fredi, I want you to do more than charm people. Listen to them. Everyone is psychic, but most people don’t realize how psychic they really are. Encourage people to talk to you. Ask what they are feeling. Have they picked up lately on any sudden and unexplained feelings of dread? You know, ask around and see what keywords come up. By gathering what you learn, we might be able to pinpoint the subterranean source of disturbance.”
“I’ll do it.” Fredi looked surprised. “Estele, I want to give you a compliment and I hope it won’t sound like an insult. When you were talking to me just now, you came across as super focused and totally in charge. You reminded me of me. Even the look in your eyes was different. It’s like I caught a glimpse of Estele 2.0 in an alternate universe.”
No one knew her better than Fredi. The comment wasn’t insulting at all, it was heartening. “I reminded you of you? Cool.” Life goals achieved. “So, you don’t mind joining Marge in the psychic tent to play fortune-teller for a little while?”
“Not a bit. You’re the one holding the Heart of Hecate in her purse. This is your call. Though I will step in if I see things going sideways.”
“Fair enough.” Considering her recent past, Fredi was being extremely generous with her trust. “What do you want your name to be?”
“My psychic name?” Fredi tapped a finger to her pink lips. “How about Frederica, the hand of fate?”
“It sounds like a B movie.”
“I know, and that’s why I like it.” Fredi turned and sauntered away. “I’m off to report for duty to Madame Shamansky,” she said over her shoulder.
So far, so good. Estele looked around. The Brujo Tacos truck was swamped with customers. Hopefully Val and Bruno had enchanted a little of everything on the truck and people were getting some mojo-laced immunity along with their salsa. The most unsettling detail was how many people had already arrived for the fair. Who knew flocks of early birds did the county fair in the morning? The midway was packed, long lines had formed in front the most popular rides, and fairgoers were streaming into the parking lot by the busload. At this rate, by noon this place would be jamming.
Estele peeked into her purse. The gem was safely nestled at the bottom and appeared calm, with only the faintest glow. She reached inside to pet it. “What do I do next?” she whispered. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”
A child carrying a cloud of blue cotton candy on a stick walked past and pointed at Estele. “Look, Mommy! A crazy lady talking into her purse.”
The mother blushed pink. “Maybe she’s on the phone, dear.” They hurried toward the Ferris wheel.
“I’m petting a rock!” Oh well, not everything had changed. People still looked at her with interest and suspicion, as if she were some sort of brightly colored but mysterious creature that may or may not be poisonous.
As she strolled through the fair, a sense of unease built inside. It would have been fun to go on a ride, but it wasn’t appropriate to relax and enjoy herself knowing trouble was brewing below.
She grew more anxious. When it happened, what shape would it take? Would she receive any warnings before it broke out? Worst of all, she didn’t even know what she should be looking for. She walked past a garishly painted ride as a carny dressed like a clown buckled riders into the Tilt-A-Whirl and set the ride in motion. He turned to glare at her. What was that about?
A group of Johnny Cash impersonators dressed in black streamed past her, with their hair slicked back and long coats flapping in the ocean breeze. All carried guitar cases and were headed toward the stage.
The sight brought a smile to her face. Johnny Cash was huge in San Buena. He’d once lived nearby, and everybody still loved him and held a yearly tribute. One of the few facts she knew about her father, Ernesto, was that he had been a devoted Johnny Cash fan.
A petting zoo had been assembled near the far end of the fairgrounds. She walked up to a beautiful little white pony with a silky platinum tail that brushed the ground. Stroking the pony’s forelock, she gazed into the animal’s soft eyes. “Hello, sweetheart,” she cooed. Like every other little girl, a real pony would have fulfilled her childhood dreams and erased years of painful loneliness—or not. Still, how could she not love a pony? “How are you doing?”
The pony glanced from side to side to see if anyone was standing near, then said, “We’re all in danger,” in a distinctly male voice.
Her jaw dropped. “Are you talking to me?”
The pony blinked. “I ain’t talking to your boots, although I will say those laces look mighty tasty.”
“You would chew up my bootlaces?”
“In a heartbeat.” The pony snorted. “I’m bored out of my mind and I like to chew, so sue me. I nip bad kids too. You’re the sweetheart. Come a little closer and pet me again.”
Estele stepped away from the fence. “No. You’re a naughty pony. I can’t trust you.”
“You can. I want to warn you about something.” With a grunt, the pony pissed a heavy stream that formed a puddle between his hooves. He frisked away from it with an adorable shake of his head. “Sorry about that, it had to happen. Estele, you have to watch out for the clowns.”
“A miniature horse is warning me about clowns? Of course clowns are a problem! Tell me something I don’t know, like why is a pony talking to me? By the way, how do you know my name?”
“We all know your name.” The pony whined and playfully stomped his little hooves when some fairgoers walked past. “You’re Estele, the powerful witch mentioned in prophecy.”
Her breath caught. “There’s a prophecy about me? No way. I think there might be some confusion here. That can’t possibly be me.”
“I’m pretty damn sure it is. You certainty have Luther rattled. Last night, I saw you and that guy scoping out the carnival. I was trotting around behind the trailers and watched Luther turn into a smoke bull to chase you off. He’s scared of you. I heard him tell a clown that you could ruin everything.”
“Ruin what? Don’t be vague. Give me some details and I’ll get you a cabbage taco from the food truck.”
“Hell yeah! I’d like that.” The pony batted his lashes. “Luther plans to set his brother free. They have some wild scheme to take over the West Coast as their earthly territory.”
A sickening feeling gripped her. “Is his brother named Shai-tan? You know, sounds like Satan? What do you mean by earthly territory?”
Curling his lips back, the pony revealed his long teeth. “They say the djinn are supposed to serve mankind. Bullshit. Look how Luther served me. One minute I’m a high roller at the Aladdin Casino, the next morning I wake up a freaking pony in a petting zoo. I won that bastard fair and square at a blackjack table. Luther owes me. When things get put right, I plan on polishing that bastard’s lamp to a hard gloss with all the apology requests I’ll be making.”
“Are you Luther’s master?”
“What do you think, lady? I’m crapping on sawdust and nibbling alfalfa pellets from kids’ hands. Do I look like I’m anybody’s master?”
“So, Luther tricked you and trapped you in a pony’s body and—”
“And ran off with Marge Shamansky’s carnival. I feel for that poor woman, but that’s a whole other story.” The pony bobbed his head.
Val walked up to Estele with his eyes shining. “Hi, I wondered where you went. I wasn’t expecting to find you at the petting zoo.”
She turned. Val’s face radiated warmth, like he was looking at something that thrilled him. No one ever looked at her that way, and it felt great. “What are you doing over here? Last time I looked, the line for the truck was long.”
He smiled a slightly crooked, charming smile. “It’s still long and getting longer. You won’t believe what hap—”
“Hush.” She glanced at the pony. Was it wise to talk in front of this poor bewitched creature? Better safe than sorry. She patted the pony’s head. “See you later, Blackjack.”
Val appeared confused. “Who names a snowy-white pony Blackjack? Or were you being ironic?”
“I’ll tell you later.” Taking hold of Val’s sleeve, she led him away. “So what are you doing over here? Who’s rolling enchanted burritos?”
His gaze was riveted on Estele. “My primary job is to be your protector. I should never have allowed you to walk off on your own, even for a moment. Especially not in this environment.”
“And our job,” she countered, “is to protect innocent people. Who’s helping Tio Bruno to make and distribute the enchanted food?”
In daylight, Val’s eyes were not as dark as she had originally thought. When sunlight hit the irises at the right angle, soft cinnamon tones appeared. “Don’t worry. Bruno is getting plenty of help.”
They walked past a vendor making cotton candy. The slightly burnt but sweet scent of spun sugar filled the air. “Who’s helping him?”
“Witch Griselda.”
“What?” Could this be dangerous? “You let old Grissy work your food truck?”
He reached for Estele’s hand and held it as they strolled. “Griselda insisted. She climbed aboard the truck, mumbled an incantation, and turned into this willowy red-haired fox in front of our eyes. Bruno was dazzled. The two of them seemed to click. I’ve never seen Bruno react to a woman this way. They set up an assembly line: Bruno made food, and then Griselda enchanted it. She has another trick too—she cast a multiplication spell on some of the good stuff and now we have more than enough of everything. Miss Dahlia is walking around the fair handing out free samples. So they don’t need me, and I would rather be with you anyway.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he led her down the midway.
Wow. They were strolling hand in hand around the fairgrounds, and except for the potential of evil bubbling up and ruining things for everyone, all seemed right with the world. This must be what other people felt like all the time. They fell in love and planned futures that looked bright. How great would it be to wake up one day and discover she was just like anybody else, and she too could have what they had. The only difference would be she’d never take normal for granted.
In the arena, speakers began to blare Johnny Cash songs as the first of the tributes began.
Val led Estele toward the Ferris wheel and stood at the ticket gate. “Let’s do a little recon.”
She glanced up. A giant spinning machine, rocking in the ocean breeze, perched on top of a bubble of malevolence? “Wait a minute. You want to ride a Ferris wheel assembled by a crew who were under the thrall of an evil djinn when they did the work? Are you sure about that?”
“Are you afraid of heights?”
“Not really.” Other things scared her more. It would be bad to fall twelve stories from a broken Ferris and land on a creepy clown. That was just about the worst-case obituary scenario she could come up with. Early reports claim Miss Esposito fell from the teetering Ferris wheel onto a roving pack of feral clowns. “Except in certain circumstances.”
“The Ferris wheel’s not the problem—it’s what’s under our feet that’s going to give us a hard time. Besides, from up there we can see things we might otherwise miss.”
He had a point.
The wheel stopped to allow two riders to disembark. The operator opened the gate and motioned for them to board. “I remember you!” He pointed to Val. “You forced me to drink coffee, and you were damn pushy about it. I’ve been caffeine free for two years. Now I’m jonesing for more. Thanks a lot, buddy.”
“You’re welcome.” Val waved any negativity away. He gently placed his hand on Estele’s back and guided her aboard. “Ladies first.”
She and Val sat and the operator locked the bar across their laps. His thigh pressed against hers and he made no attempt to move it. They sat squeezed together though the seat could have accommodated three. The operator pulled the brake and the wheel swung into the air.
Her stomach dropped and the breath rushed out of her. “I hope we don’t die up there.” The initial rate of speed was surprising. Did Ferris wheels always go so fast?
“This wheel has some serious horsepower driving it.” The innocent joy on Val’s face softened his strong features. “I love being next to the ocean and seeing a view. Look at that odd fogbank creeping up on the surf. Wait, it’s not just fog. There’s an old square-rigged schooner sailing along the coast.”
She closed her eyes and clutched the bar. Who cared about ships? In her childhood memories, Ferris wheels were slow, easy rides that even Grandma Lena had been willing to take her on, but this wheel was fierce and not for the faint of heart. A stiff gust of wind blew off the water, making the entire structure shudder. “Whoa! Was this a good idea?”
“Fate had the right idea in pairing us as allies.”
She opened her eyes. The emotion in his gaze stunned her.
Val touched Estele’s chin and drew her toward him. His expression morphed into something more subtle and hard to define. “You’re so beautiful. I have to kiss you.”
Her breath caught. Did he really think she was beautiful and not just cute, kooky, or worse, “that weird girl who tries too hard”? How wonderful would it be to have something like this work? Without thinking, she cupped his face and pulled him near. The first moment of contact was hers to offer and she made it count by allowing all the excitement surging through her to transfer to the kiss. His hands tangled in her hair, capturing her against his chest as he brushed his lips against hers. She shivered as chills not caused by the cool breeze passed between them. A psychic flash of knowing that Val was essential to her future happiness and what they were sharing might not end followed. As sensations built between them, the thought, this is true alchemy, shot straight to her heart. What a breathtaking kiss.
A wall of mist swirled through the air and congealed around them. A second later Captain Manx crowded beside Val. “Whee!” he squealed with delight. “What is this thunderous conveyance we are perched upon? This circular romp is as soul-bracing as scurrying up the mast in a storm. I like it!” The Ferris wheel crested its arc and made a swift descent. “There goes me stomach! I feel as floppy as a beached walrus, burping up fish.”
She drew away from Val. The beautiful kiss had been ruined. “Captain, you won’t throw up because you don’t have a stomach.”
“Right you are, miss.” The captain’s eyes glittered with enthusiasm. “So many people here! Where do they all hail from? Who are all those men, standing on the stage dressed in black singing sea shanties? They look like undertakers. I see Miss Dahlia over there handing out treats! I wish I’d met her when I was alive. I’ve always had a sweet spot for a bold lass who’s not afraid to wear a big bustle under her dress.”
“Captain. Miss Dahlia is not wearing a bustle. That’s her.... Never mind.” Estele’s tone was sharper than she’d intended. “Why are you up here?”
The captain thrust his arms to the side and flapped like a bird. “I came to tell you that while scouting for the ghosts of my lost crew, I’ve serendipitously located the subterranean source of evil.”
She nodded. “Yes, we already know the bubble of malevolence is beneath the fair. We were just waiting for something more concrete to—”
“Not just below the fair.” The captain pointed to a brightly painted ride that had a grotesque gaping mouth as its entrance. “It’s directly below the funhouse.”
Her gaze focused on the somewhat shabby exterior of the funhouse that looked creepy as hell. The sunbaked paint had peeled in places and read “UNHOUSE.” A posse of clowns loitered in front. George Romero should take notes. “I don’t like the look of it.”
Suddenly the clowns burst away from the funhouse like birds startled from the brush. She knew the answer before she asked, “Why are the clowns running away?” Half a dozen clowns shoved their way through the crowds, knocking people down and trampling them with flapping shoes as they fled toward the parking lot.
“Something wrong. It’s starting!” Grabbing Val’s hand, she pleaded, “We have to get off this ride! Make the barker stop the Ferris wheel.”
“Hey!” Val cupped his hands to make his booming voice even louder. “Stop the wheel!”
One glance revealed no one was operating the ride. The wheel swooped into the air for another turn while they remained trapped.
Nervous as hell, she looked around. What could they do?
Captain Manx pointed out to sea and gulped. “Bless my barnacled ballocks! Are my withered eyes deceiving me? Avast, look into the fog. It’s my old ship, the Lady Alice, and she’s going to run aground. I can’t allow that to happen. Not on my watch! All hands on deck, your captain is coming!”
In a poof of mist, the captain disappeared.