Serial Saturday: "Fairies Under Glass" Part 22

Part 22

"An Airtight Alibi"

Another week passed, and Lewis was no closer to achieving any sort of breakout than he had been at the start. Ashwyn kept him informed of the captives' status, and Mr. Storm expressed his satisfaction with Lewis' apparent dedication to cleaning up trash by dropping hints that a higher-ranking position awaited him. But nothing much changed, and by far the most aggravating thing about Lewis' job was that every time he was close to getting any kind of perspective on the Phantasmenagerie's layout undetected, Adolf would manifest somewhere in close proximity. Lewis caught onto the fact that the henchman's werewolf senses could detect fairies, but even if he managed to contact Ashwyn or Queen Evalia from a distance, Adolf appeared while Lewis attempted to mind his own business, glowering at him without a word. Lewis had even tried to complain about him to Mr. Storm, but that only led to the carnival director advising him to steer clear of Adolf and anything to do with Krasimir Schlimme. At least by speaking up and taking his employer's advice he no longer felt like Adolf was actively stalking him anymore, but he would still show up several times throughout the day, as if to remind Lewis that the lad was under the surveillance of a born predator.

About midweek, Lewis was picking up trash near the food court when he heard Krasimir Schlimme bellow, "Zere he is!"

Mr. Storm and two security guards (regular humans, not Adolf and another werewolf or any Underworlders) converged on the young janitor as Krasimir fumed, "You seenk you can break into my menagerie and cause problems, ja? You are suspicious of me, after I gif you a good job at ze museum, after I have been so accommodating? You seenk zis way you vill get more exclusive access to my creations, ja?"

Lewis furrowed his brow and watched Mr. Storm through the artist's tirade. "What is he talking about, sir?"

The director coughed. "Um, well, Lewis, it seems that there have been a few strange goings-on in the fre--uh, fantasy attraction," he explained. "Trash cans tipped over, enclosures left unlocked, machines unplugged, that sort of thing. Did you ever find yourself on that side of the carnival in the last week?"

Lewis shrugged. "No, I've just stuck around the main carnival grounds. Are you asking because I might have seen something?" he queried, but then the pieces fell into place. "No wait... You think I could have messed with that stuff?"

"Of course you did!" Mr. Schlimme retorted. "No one else could haf known enough about my things to want to sabotage me! You are just looking for an excuse to discredit me!"

Lewis shook his head. "Not at all, sir. I work for Mr. Storm and I would not do anything to interfere with his carnival or any shows associated with it."

"If I may," Mr. Storm broke in, holding up a tablet produced by the security guard. "We have some footage here of what looks like a large animal knocking over one of your trashcans," he pointed to the grainy image where all that could be seen by the can in question was a flicker of light and then a small, squat creature about four feet tall colliding with the can.

Mr. Storm went on. "Maybe this animal is responsible for the trash everywhere, at least, and the other accidents are just that, random bouts of equipment failure."

Krasimir glared at Lewis. "Who is to say zis boy did not deliberately drive zis... animal, as you say, into my side of ze carnival? Have you searched his belongings for ze keys I am missing?"

One of the security guards raised a key ring from his pocket. "You mean these?" he asked, jangling them before Schlimme's shocked face. "Somebody found them on the ground just outside your main tent this morning and handed them to me. I was just on my way to turn them in when Storm called me over here."

"And I wasn't even here in the morning today," Lewis piped up. "I had class this morning back at Browning Academy."

Meanwhile, Krasimir had actually viewed the security footage and his whole demeanor changed. He cooled down from his anger into a frigid calm. "I cannot prove zese seengs vere done by Herr Grant, but I want assurances zat he does not set foot in my menagerie vissout my express permission."
Mr. Storm nodded. "That I can ensure, sir. I will discuss this with Lewis and we will work out an arrangement I am sure you will find most agreeable."

The self-proclaimed artist gave the young man a devastating scowl, but he stomped back toward his domain. Sure enough, as Lewis watched him he caught Adolf peeking out from behind a tent with his lip curled in a snarl, but at a barked command from Schlimme, the henchman followed his master.

Mr. Storm wagged his head. "I'm sorry about that, Lewis. I know this situation is not your fault, but you know how it is when rich artists start making demands." He shrugged. "I wouldn't normally agree to work with someone so hot-tempered, but he is bringing in far more revenue than my carnival alone has in past years." He laid a hand on Lewis' shoulder. "I've said this before, you've been doing a very good job fulfilling your duties. In fact, before all the complaints this week I was almost ready to promote you to a higher position by Friday, giving you a team of staffers to supervise in various locations around the carnival. However, I think you and I can agree it's for the best if you just stick around this side of the carnival, and avoid doing anything that would put you in the vicinity of that area." Mr. Storm cast a furtive glance toward the Phantasmenagerie. Turning back to Lewis, he continued brightly, "How about I assign you to the arcade for the time being? You can help run the games, troubleshoot as necessary, and make sure the guests have a good time."

Lewis slowly nodded along. Granted, it wasn't the same level of free rein he'd enjoyed as a janitor able to roam around the carnival at will, but it was also nowhere near the Phantasmenagerie, so Krasimir couldn't possibly accuse him of sabotage again. At the same time, if he was going to map out a rescue plan and get the chance to pull it off, he would need a place to lay low until the artist's ire faded. "Sounds good, Mr. Storm," he said.

"Great!" Mr. Storm pointed across the food court. "Why don't you finish with these last few cans and stow the cart so you can head over to the arcade now. I think Ashley is the lead there today, and she can give you some tasks to do."

Lewis straightened his cap and cleared his throat. "Okay, Mr. Storm," he replied, and prepared to do just that.

Once he arrived at the arcade, he found Ashley just starting a young girl on a game of Whack-a-Mole.
"Hey, are you Ashley?" Lewis asked.

The round-faced redhead looked up and smiled when she noticed Lewis wearing a uniform that matched hers. "Yeah, are you the new guy?" A buzzer sounded as the girl ended her game.

Lewis nodded. "I'm Lewis. Mr. Storm told me to work the arcade for the next week or so."

When Ashley smiled, her hazel eyes seemed to sparkle in the afternoon light. "That's great! I'd appreciate the help. Do you mind reaching over to grab that stuffed panda?" She gestured to the wall of prizes beside Lewis, and he obliged. The girl skipped off happily, and Ashley stepped down from behind the game to join Lewis in the middle of the space. Lewis noticed she wore a tiny microphone clipped over her ear, but her voice didn't seem amplified as she spoke to him. "All right, Lewis, here we have Skeeball, Whack-a-Mole, basketball, pinball, a claw machine, and ring toss." She pointed around the space. "Everything's pretty self-contained, single-player, and you shouldn't have many problems. The bulk of this job is resetting the rings, pressing the buttons on the machines to reset those between each customer, and doling out the prizes."

Lewis pointed to her microphone. "Do I need to wear one of those?"

Ashley shrugged. "Probably not. I only need it if the games get too loud and I need to explain the rules of another game, or if a group decides they want to compete with one another. Any more questions?"

Lewis shook his head, which prompted another smile on Ashley's face. "Great! Let's get started!"

Ashley supervised one side of the arcade, and Lewis manned the other. After about an hour of steadily welcoming people in, Lewis was finding a rhythm to running the machines. So much so that he didn't panic when Ashley said, "Well, I need to take my break now. There aren't too many people coming in anyway. Are you going to be okay till I get back?"

Lewis waved to her. "I'll be fine. See you later!" He went back to collecting the rings in their basket.

Some time passed, and Lewis watched the last person in the arcade finish their Skee-ball game, collect their prize, and leave. No one else in the immediate vicinity seemed to be heading in his direction, so Lewis took the opportunity to sit in the plastic folding chair between the basketball game and the pinball machine. He felt something tap his shoulder and a small voice said, "Oh, there you are!"

Lewis lifted his hand and Ashwyn landed in his palm. "Ashwyn, I've been meaning to talk to you."

The small fairy plopped down and pulled her knees to her chest. "What about? Why are you here and not going around emptying garbage cans?" Her wings sparkled briefly. "Did you get promoted?"

Lewis sighed and rolled his eyes. "Not exactly..." he responded slowly. "Mr. Storm put me here after a bunch of stuff went wrong in the Phantasmenagerie."

Ashwyn burst out laughing, a musical tinkle as her wings buzzed against his palm. "Oh! We really showed that Captor! I even made sure to pull those pranks when there were other Underworlders or Phantasmians about, so Adolf could never hone in on my particular scent. Aren't you proud of me for not getting caught?"

"Well, no!" Lewis retorted. "Mr. Schlimme still tried to blame me for the sabotage! I never asked you to do that! What possessed you?"

Ashwyn huffed and rose into the air with her arms crossed. "You think I could see all my kin and my friends getting tortured every day and not want to get a little bit of payback? Besides, it's not like he had any proof at all of your involvement. You were never anywhere near it when we went in to have our bit of fun!"

"Ashwyn!" Lewis groaned. "I'm trying to stay undetected so Mr. Schlimme and especially Adolf hopefully gets used to ignoring me so when I make a plan, I can put it into action without getting caught!"

The mischievous fairy's face fell. "Oh... I get it now."

Lewis wagged his head. "No more pulling pranks, okay? It's too risky. You're lucky Mr. Storm thought the goblin that was chasing you and knocking over the trash cans was some kind of large raccoon or something."

"Oh, haha!" Ashwyn cut a couple loops as she chuckled. "That was so funny, leading him all over the place as he bashed his head over and over again and made such a mess! I kind of hoped the master of Storms would choose you to clean it up, and then you'd have an excuse to go there--"

"No more, Ashwyn," Lewis begged her. "Please, just stop trying to interfere on my behalf."

She stopped her crazy loops, hovering in midair. "Are you sure?" she asked, a strange tone in her jingling voice. "Please, can't I do just one more thing--"

"No!" Lewis shook his head. "One more prank and I might be in just as much trouble as I was at the Warehouse. I can't afford to frustrate another employer!"

"Well then..." Ashwyn started bobbing up and down in agitation. "You might not like what's about to happen..."

Lewis narrowed his gaze on her, reaching out to snatch her out of the air so she couldn't get away. "What did you do?"

A moment after the words left his mouth, a terrific crash shook the ground, and Lewis almost lost his footing as Ashwyn dodged his grasp. The little fairy took off from the arcade, pealing "I'm sorry!" as she few away.

Lewis heard screams and saw nearly everyone still at the carnival streaming toward one end of the grounds. Stepping into the aisle beside the arcade, Lewis walked toward the source of the mayhem, the Phantasmenagerie.

The moment those grisly black gates came into view, he realized what had made the noise: one of the large tents (not the huge main one at the center, but one of the larger ones off to the side) had collapsed, and a pipe somewhere had burst, spraying a gush of water into the air where it sprinkled down on anyone standing too close.

Lewis watched the frenzied movement under the collapsed tent, his eyes distinguishing the shape of something with wings--it had to be the gryphon, he surmised. At least it wasn't the strait-jacketed Lisa buried helplessly under all that heavy canvas. A crowd of people cringed under the falling water and raced away from the Phantasmenagerie as fast as they could, screaming and shouting all the way.
Lewis kept inching closer as crowds behind him swept him forward, and people in front of him kept obscuring his view. Krasimir's oddly-shaped "staffers"--the disguised Underworlders--raced to block the water pipe and reset the tent, while also recapturing the Phantasmians it contained.

Lewis now stood at the last row of rides before the fence around the Phantasmenagerie. He heard a furious voice bellowing German curses and when he looked toward his right, there was Krasimir Schlimme, thrashing somebody with a thick riding crop. The person he beat wore a staff uniform similar to Lewis' but it didn't seem to fit right on the twisted body. Dark, furry hands reached up in a plea for mercy, and Lewis felt his knees buckle as he realized it was a burly ogre whose humanlike disguise had partially washed off.

"Hey you!" snarled a voice, and Lewis whirled around.
Adolf!

The werewolf was still in human form and standing on the other side of the gate, but the murderous glare he leveled at Lewis was decidedly monstrous. "You're not supposed to be over here!"

Lewis immediately turned back toward Storm's carnival and took off against the flow of people, toward safety. He managed to reach the other side of the food court before he stopped to catch his breath. Beside him, a pair of staffers discussed the fiasco that had just occurred.

"Yeah, that place is a real mess right now!" one said. "Pass the message along to the front gate attendants, that Mr. Storm says admission to the Phantasmenagerie should be halted at once, till they get the situation under control."

"Gee, I hope that place isn't closed for too long," his friend replied. "It'll probably take them days to put everything back together!"

Lewis shuddered. Mr. Schlimme would definitely not accept losing a single day of revenue. Even back at his post in the arcade, Lewis could still hear the animal-like wails of more Underworlders getting punished. Would the Phantasmians in his possession become the targets of Krasimir's wrath as well?
That evening, after a quick dinner in the food court, Lewis decided to check in with the fairies an hour before his bus was scheduled to come. He made sure he was alone at the staff lockers (since so many had opted to leave as quickly as possible when the tent collapsed) before opening his backpack. Queen Evalia and a crowd of fairies flew out, while the elves tumbled to the floor in eager cartwheels.

"How did everything go today?" asked Queen Evalia.

"Not well," Lewis answered, looking around at the sparkling fairies. "I need to speak with Ashwyn. Is she here?" The fairies stopped to hover and prove to him that she wasn't among them, so Lewis searched elsewhere around the space. "Ashwyn? Where are you?"

"She's not here right now," of of the elves climbed up onto the bench to speak with him. "Last any of us saw, she came in, said she'd done something bad, and told Queen Evalia that she needed to go back and fix it before you finished for the day."

Lewis watched the Queen settle on the top shelf of his locker. "Is this true?"

Queen Evalia nodded. "She left some time ago, and I haven't seen her since." The light of her wings pulsed. "I fear she may have gone back into the Captor's domain, and she hasn't come out again."

Lewis glanced out the window of the mobile unit. Sunset was nearly complete. The shadows were even thicker and darker than they'd been before. "I have to go find her!" he said with a gulp.

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Serial Saturday: "Fairies Under Glass" Part 21

Part 21

"Sniffing Around"

Lewis held his breath as he twisted the full garbage bag shut and lifted it out of the can to replace it with a fresh liner.

It had been a full week of keeping his head down, emptying trash cans and gathering bits of trash discarded by customers as they explored the carnival. He had managed to earn the approval of Casey and keep within the good graces of Mr. Storm, all while avoiding Krasimir Schlimme and the Phantasmenagerie. He couldn't even look in the direction of those creepy black gates without shuddering. Occasionally, he'd see Adolf stomping through the carnival on some sort of errand for Mr. Sclimme, but as Casey had said, the boundary between Storm's carnival and Schlimme's attraction was not breached often.

Some of the cans Lewis had to empty were close enough to the "menagerie" that he could see the milling forms of the "attendants"--slouching, awkward figures that passed for human on first glance, but the one time Lewis couldn't help staring, he found that they all had an eerie quality about them that betrayed their true natures, even if the unsuspecting public couldn't see it.

On the Saturday after Lewis' first full week, a large group of teenagers on some sort of holiday passed by the entrance booth of Storm's carnival, and every one of them bought admission to the Phantasmenagerie. Lewis wagged his head as they didn't even pause at any carnival games or rides, but headed right for those shining resin gates. He imagined he could hear the cries of the gryphon and Gathlen's pained whinnies issuing from somewhere in that fog-ridden wasteland. Every so often, he'd hear a high-pitched cackle, but it was so consistent that he could dismiss it as a sound-effect from some display. It irked him, how clever the so-called artist was: mingling things that were obviously fake among his real captives, also done over to look artificial, so that anybody looking at them would automatically assume that everything was fake.

Just as he was about to pick up some refuse that missed the trash can five feet away, a flurry of movement caught his eye. Lewis almost flinched, but it was only Ashwyn who came to land on the rim of the open can.

"Someone is looking for you," she chimed faintly, taking a covert moment to slip into the pocket of Lewis' uniform polo.

Lewis winced. "Who, Mr. Schlimme or Mr. Storm?" What if it's Adolf? he thought. He had avoided encountering the burly security guard ever since the meltdown at Moulton House, after Lewis had witnessed the man transform out of his werewolf state, but if Krasimir Schlimme suspected him at all, then Adolf would be just the man--or wolf--to uncover the connection.

"Neither," Ashwyn answered. "It's somebody from the big learning place, the long-haired one. I heard her say that she knows you work here." Lewis felt her movement against his chest as she climbed up to poke her head up near the edge of his pocket. "Do you want me to gather reinforcements to stage a diversion?"

Lewis hefted the full garbage bag and put it in his dumpster cart. A carnival-goer finished the last bite of funnel cake just as he was walking by Lewis, and without even looking, the man tossed the greasy paper plate into Lewis' cart and kept moving.

"No," Lewis whispered to Ashwyn as soon as he was alone. "It's just Quincy, probably. I know her, she's harmless." He heaved the cart to get it rolling toward his next stop.

Minutes later, just as he'd left the rides and moved toward the games section, Lewis heard a familiar voice yell, "There he is!"

He glanced toward the voice to see Quincy, Jesse, and Brayden headed toward him.
Quincy grinned and waved like she was greeting a long-awaited friend returning from an extended trip. "Lewis! Good to see you! Man, it's been a while!" She gave him a small side hug as the guys opted for a more subtle greeting.

"'Sup?" asked Brayden, as Jesse held out his hand for a friendly fist-bump.

Lewis obliged. "Hey guys. Welcome to Storm's Carnival."

"It's nice to have somewhere we can get away on the days we don't have classes," Quincy remarked, toying with the neon paper bracelet on her wrist. "There's a discount on admission for Browning students."

"Not the special exhibit, though," Jesse pointed out.

Quincy waved a nonchalant hand. "Meh, I just wanted to be able to see it at least once before it goes away. I typically like spooky stuff, especially while the weather is still cold!" she shivered and wrapped her coat closer around herself.

Lewis could tell from the nervous expressions on the group's faces that they weren't as keen as Quincy. He shifted the topic of conversation. "So, I know I haven't been in the same circles at Browning for the last couple weeks, basically just attending classes and then spending the rest of my day here. What have I missed since then?"

"Oh, big changes!" Quincy jumped in again. "You know that big catastrophe that happened at Moulton House?"

"Of course he knows, Quincy! He was there!" Jesse grunted before Lewis could say anything.

The dark-haired girl blinked. "You were? I thought you were at the other place for your new job this semester, the Warehouse."

"I did sign up for Warehouse 31," Lewis confirmed, eager for something to divert their attention away from his proximity to the place. "I might have been in the area of the museum that day, but I wasn't still working as a janitor when everything kind of fell apart."

Quincy was too eager to tell her story. "Well, anyway, word is the old building, while an important piece of history, was too damaged in the collapse to be able to restore it at all. They've moved whatever art they could salvage over to a warehouse--not the same one as you worked at, but a different storage facility--and they're tearing the whole thing down to build a new one."

"I still can't get a straight answer from anybody on what happened," Brayden said. "Some girls from my art class said they saw an actual unicorn running across the road in front of the museum, while Zane from Chemistry class swears he could see a giant hand as big as a car reaching out of the roof--but nobody had any proof of these things. I mean, just looking at the damage, it does match what the faculty says happened."

"And what do they say?" Lewis queried in a small voice.

Brayden shrugged. "Anytime somebody asked, the teachers all would say a gas line ruptured and blew off the front wall of the building, and a water-line burst and caused even more damage." He finished with a slow shake of his head.

"Any word on when you'll be back to a normal schedule and able to join us for Study Hall again?" Quincy asked. "It's dumb that we don't get to hang out like we used to."

Lewis scratched behind his ear. "I don't know," he said. "That's going to be up to the Dean, I guess."

Jesse abruptly hunched his shoulders and scooted in closer to the group of friends. "Don't look now," he whispered, "but there's a weird guy in a carnival staff uniform over by the roller coaster giving us a creepy stare."

Lewis didn't move his head but lifted his eyes to see over Jesse's shoulder. Sure enough, he spotted the man at once, but that was because only he could tell that it wasn't a man at all. The hairline was a bit to high, the torso a bit too short, the legs bent oddly in long slacks, and the arms were just a touch too long. Not to mention that he was wearing the uniform designating him as a staffer from Krasimir Schlimme's Phantasmenagerie. It had to be one of the disguised goblins, Lewis concluded.

"We should probably let Lewis get back to work, so we can look through the spooky attractions before they close down for the day," Quincy was saying. "Catch you later, Lewis!" She waved as the three of them went on their way. Lewis noticed as he returned to his work that the goblin had moved on as well. Why would Krasimir Schlimme want to spy on his friends?

After his shift ended, Lewis headed for the food court to grab a slice of pizza. Of course he didn't forget his small stowaway, sneaking bites of pizza into his pocket for Ashwyn.

"You know that goblin wasn't watching your friends, right?" she mused from down between the layers of fabric.

"I know." Lewis kept his hands folded in front of his face so it wouldn't be too obvious that he was talking. "Do you think they've figured out that I have the Phantasmagyth?"

"Oh, most assuredly!" Another voice shimmered above his head.

Lewis pretended to lean back and stretch as he located Queen Evalia flitting among the hanging floodlights over the courtyard. "There is no doubt the Captor knows for certain that the common factor in his sudden fall from dominance is you, and that at one point you were around when the Phantasmagyth went missing."

"Don't worry," Ashwyn jumped in as Lewis felt his pulse racing. "He probably assumes you know nothing about us or the way the Phantasmagyth works, so you're not too much a threat to him as long as he believes he can get ahold of the Phantasmagyth at some point."

"So... What should I do with it?" Lewis squeaked. "I can't keep it, but it sounds like I can't get rid of it, either!"

"Oh, dragons no!" Queen Evalia bellowed. "you must never let it out of your possession, until Gathlen and the others are free from the Captor's grasp. Since you were the last one to activate the Phantasmagyth, that makes you its interim guardian, until it can be safely returned to the Red-Horned Unicorn!"

Lewis leaned forward and let his head drop into his hands. "I didn't ask for this!" he moaned.

"None of us did," Ashwyn responded quietly, "and yet here we are. I believe in you, Lewis. You can see us safely home again."

Lewis sighed and leaned back to wrack his brain. "I can think of a few places to keep the Gyth in my room where it would be safe from anybody trying to snoop around and look for it," he mused. His mind went to the puzzle box he'd hidden the Chain in when he'd gone back home for the holidays. If he put that under his travel bags in the top of his dorm room closet, no one would even think to look up in what should be a bunch of empty cases for a massive gemstone!

"What about the Chain?" Evalia asked. "It is imperative that you keep such a powerful artefact within reach, not where the Captor can get to it without your knowledge. Him laving the Gyth is one thing, but he must never come in contact with the Chain."

Lewis nodded as he gathered his empty dishes and headed toward the nearest trash can. "It's safe enough in my backpack. That thing has so many little pockets I don't even use that it would be hard for someone else to locate something that small unless they knew the right compartment to look in. Plus, I basically carry my backpack wherever I--yipe!"

Lewis had just turned around from throwing away his trash in the middle of speaking to find Adolf standing just behind him.

"Who are you talking to?" The swarthy henchman snarled.

Lewis recalled what Gathlen had said about him being in charge of the Underworlders--and just seeing the man's face reminded him of the awful sensation of being charged by the werewolf.

"N-nobody!" Lewis stammered. "I was just eating some dinner after I finished my shift. I'm leaving now!" Why did he feel obligated to answer to this creepy, brawny henchman, anyway?

Adolf sneered at him. and Lewis could hear the weird sniffling sound his breath made as Adolf said, "Do you smell something?"

The question caught Lewis so off-guard that he didn't quite know what to say. Did the fact that they were both from Phantasm mean that the werewolf could detect the scent of fairies? "W-well, the only thing I'm smelling right now is the trash can beside us." In the dark at the edge of the carnival, Lewis could se the bus arrive to take passengers back toward Browning Academy and the nearby city. "I've gotta go," he finished, and before Adolf could try anything else or detain him any longer, Lewis dashed straight to the staff lockers, picked up his backpack and caught the bus. Only then did he dare to let out a sigh of relief.

"That was a close one!" he muttered aloud. At least Adolf hadn't caught him actively sitting and chatting with the fairies. Lewis had no idea how he would have talked his way out of that situation!

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