Serial Saturday: "Fairies Under Glass" Part 23

Part 23

"Ambush at the Menagerie"

Lewis secured his backpack straps over his shoulders.

"Wait!" Queen Evalia glided in front of him. "Before you go, place the Chain around your neck."

Lewis frowned. "You want me to wear the Chain?" he asked. "Why?"

"It will protect you," answered the Fairy Queen.

"In case I get caught?"

"From the Underworlders, and anything the Captor might try against you," she affirmed.

Lewis dug the Chain out of his backpack. It hung a little longer than the collar of his shirt, but when he tucked the Chain under his clothes, it could hardly be seen.

"Okay, I'm going," he announced.

"We will watch from a distance, in case you need our help," Queen Evalia promised.

Lewis had no idea what he might encounter. He slipped out of the staff area, setting a timer on his watch so he wouldn't miss the bus.

Hardly anyone remained at the carnival, as it was only minutes until the actual closing time. Lewis tried to use the thick shadows around the tents and rides to his advantage, sneaking and ducking his way toward the entrance to the Phantasmenagerie.

Lewis crouched in the shadow of a spinning ride as he watched the grounds beyond the gate for any sign of Ashwyn. Now more than ever he wished he had some sort of imperceptible signal that could summon her to his side. The only movement he could see came from the occasional Underworlder shambling their way between tents. The ogres plodded slowly, while the goblins tended to scurry from place to place. Luckily their monstrous huffing and grunts allowed Lewis to track where any of them were, in case one got too close to him. He waited till there was a sufficient gap in the activity, and stealthily crept over the threshold into the Phantasmenagerie.

The Chain seemed to heat up a little against his skin. Lewis wondered how it could possibly protect him from the Underworlders even as he remained vigilant for any spark of light that could be Ashwyn. What was taking her so long, and why was she nowhere to be found?

He peered around the tent that had collapsed earlier. The Underworlders had got it standing again, though Lewis didn't doubt that everything inside it was still very much a sodden mess.
A flicker caught his eye, and when he didn't hear any sound nearby, Lewis ventured a hoarse whisper, "Ashwyn?"

Nothing else moved. Lewis had no choice but to venture deeper, his eyes peeled and his ears on high alert. As he made it nearly to the middle of the menagerie grounds without seeing a single fairy, much less Ashwyn, Lewis laid eyes on the huge main "big top" tent and knew what he had to do. If the little fairy had planned to do something even more devastating than collapsing a tent, it would have likely happened in here.

Before he could move, though, the sound of gravel crunching underfoot and a series of grunts reached his ears, followed instantly by a sharp zing from the Chain. Underworlders approaching! He had just enough time to dash across the lane and duck under the closest flap of the tent before two goblins waddled right by him, muttering to each other about the confounded mess they were on their way to clean.

Lewis backed up until he was underneath the bleachers where the audience would sit to watch a performance. He noticed some sources of flickering light coming from deeper inside the tent, but when he finally made it close enough to see what produced the light, his stomach turned a little.

Posted around the oblong "ring" at the center of the tent were several globes on posts, like lamps. Only these lamps weren't lit by lightbulbs or flames. Inside each globe were a dozen or so fairies, forced to take turns fluttering their wings and illuminating the globe, or risk leaving the space in eerie darkness.
Lewis couldn't bear watching the scene anymore, so he moved away from the globe right beside him and called in the loudest whisper he dared, "Ashwyn?"

The fairies in every globe probably heard him, because the light from their wings flared brighter for a few seconds, and he could faintly hear the bell-like sounds emanating all around the ring. A low, sonorous groan from high overhead caused Lewis to look up, gasp, and stagger backwards.
Lisa sat on the opposite side of the ring, and although she wasn't in a straitjacket, arguably the way Krasimir Schlimme had her bound was far worse.

Thick chains shackled her wrists and ankles, while her fingers, elbows, and even her knees were all tied with thick black nylon ropes to a series of pulleys overhead. She could move, but not very well, and her eyes had been covered by a thick cloth. Lewis scooted closer to the giantess, and in the light of the fairies, he could see a small tube leading from a reservoir mounted on her back to the corner of her mouth. The liquid sloshing in the reservoir had a sickly teal-ish tint to it.
"What is that?" he wondered under his breath.

A fairy in the globe right next to him rapped on the glass. "You see what he has done to the giant," she said.
Lewis nodded.

"It is a potion made of venim," she explained. "It cannot paralyze us anymore, thanks to the power of the Phantasmagyth, but it still affects us. It keeps her in a daze and docile enough to be controlled and not resist the Captor." She gestured to the globe around her. "He's filled these prisons with the vapor for us as well, so that if we stop moving, we fall asleep until another wakes us." She gestured to the base of the globe, where Lewis noticed for the first time the small heap of snoozing fairies.

"I'm looking for Ashwyn," he said. "When I find her, I'm going to figure out a plan to help everyone escape. Krasimir cannot keep doing this! Have you seen her?"

The fairy buzzed in excitement. "I don't recognize the name. What does she look like?"

Lewis fidgeted, feeling the warning heat from the Chain alerting him to approaching Underworlders. "She has a purple dress, she could have been flying inside here somewhere--"

More fairies began to light up. "Oh yes!" one of them chirped. "I saw her earlier today! She--"

Too late! The Chain became so hot it stung, and Lewis could hear a series of footsteps approaching the tent. Desperately, he dove behind Lisa's knee to hide just as a team of ogres trudged into the tent.

"Steady now!" grunted the foremost ogre. "Hold the beast down so it can't fly away!"
Fly? Lewis peeked out to see what they had: the gryphon, tethered with multiple ropes around its limbs, wings, head, and body. The ogres wrestled it into a cage at the opposite end of the tent, where Lewis caught a glimpse of a white flank. Gathlen! The grand Unicorn had been painted over in garish colors, and Lewis could see the thick muzzle strapped over his face. The Underworlders herded the gryphon into a stall right beside him, but rather than remove the ropes, now that the creature was contained, they staked them down around the perimeter of the cage. The gryphon protested anyway, growling through its clamped beak and wrestling against the ropes, working enough slack in them to slam itself against the sides of the stall. If only it could work those savage claws free!

"Hey! What's taking so long?" snarled a voice, and Lewis shrank back into the shadow of the giantess. Adolf! He came striding into the ring with a burlap sack in his hand. "How many ogres does it take to corral a gryphon?"

"Apologies, sir!" grunted one of the ogres. "We're mostly used to fighting these beasts from the ground as they dive to attack us, no one has ever actually gotten ahold of one within arm's reach while it's still alive, sir! This one has a lot of fight in 'em."

Adolf snorted. "I figured as much. That's why I brought this. Stand aside!" He lifted up the burlap sack, and in the light of the panicked fairies, Lewis detected the same sickly blue-green shade of the venim potion saturating the material. The werewolf slipped it over the gryphon's head, and with one last muffled shriek all its aggression ebbed away.

"There," Adolf snapped. "That'll keep her till the Master gets back. He's off for a couple days as we get the carnival back in working order. I've got to report back to him now. Take the others and make yourselves scarce till the carnival closes tomorrow night. I'll call when the coast is clear and you can come back to keep cleaning."

The ogres were only too eager to leave that tent behind. Adolf remained after they left, and all the while Lewis dared not twitch, dared not blink, dared not even breathe while the werewolf took his own sweet time stalking toward the edge of the ring. Just when Lewis was about to gasp for breath, Adolf froze and lifted his head, sniffing the slight breeze that blew into the doorway.
Lewis squeezed his eyes shut, willing his scent to blend in with the musty smells around him. He didn't open them until he heard Adolf mutter, "Fairies."

That was all. Adolf slunk out into the night, and Lewis finally heaved great gasps of air as quietly as he could manage. Once his racing heartbeat calmed, Lewis crept out of the large tent. Ashwyn obviously wasn't here, or else she would have no doubt revealed herself by now. Perhaps she had somehow missed Lewis' his clandestine search and already reunited with the other fairies. Lewis comforted himself with this thought as he ducked through the tent's entrance and glanced up at the night sky. He recalled the timer on his watch and glanced down to see how much time he had remaining before his bus arrived.
A harsh roar was his only warning. The moment Lewis took his eyes off his surroundings, Adolf lunged at him, knocking the boy over as he tried to grab him.
"Gotcha, trespasser!" The werewolf snarled. "You cannot be here!"

Lewis flailed and wriggled with all his might, kicking Adolf to throw him off-balance and staggering to his feet. Adrenaline pushed him to just run straight in any direction, but one short sprint only sent him deeper into the Phantasmenagerie grounds. Lewis stopped to try and orient himself among the tents and booths.

Adolf closed the distance between them, not even bothering to shift forms. "You think you're so clever, lurking in the background and taking whatever boot-scraping job you can find so you can interfere around where you're not invited!" The werewolf taunted.

Lewis scurried down a side path, wanting to put as many structures between himself and Adolf as possible.

"I guess I was right about that day the Infernal Gem activated--I knew you were behind it!" Adolf's voice still reached him, bouncing off the walls and tarps in strange ways across the night air. "The only thing we still can't figure out his how you managed to get the Gem out of the warehouse. My Master wants it back, by the way, so if you still have it..." The husky voice faded into the distance, and Lewis resolved to make one more attempt to sprint for the gates. He set them in his sights and took off.
Adolf appeared in front of him before he reached it, materializing as if from the shadows themselves. He loomed over Lewis, his bright eyes almost glowing in the moonlight. Hands with distinctly wolfish claws reached toward the boy.
"Give it back!" Adolf's claws nearly caught his backpack straps.

"I'm never giving you the gem!" Lewis yelled, his feet carrying him past Adolf and toward the safety of Storm's Carnival.

"You don't know anything about them!" Adolf bellowed after him. "you think these creatures want you to be their hero? you think meddling in Master Schlimme's affairs will endear you to these... trinkets?"

No matter how many turns he made among game booths and amusement rides, Lewis constantly felt Adolf getting closer and closer. The shifter had finally taken wolf form, allowing him to leap over booths and dodge around corners with vicious accuracy.

Lewis clawed at the Chain around his neck. Why hadn't Queen Evalia and her allies intervened yet?
"Protect me!" He rasped hoarsely. "Protect me!"

Adolf bounded over a bench just as Lewis raced by. Boy and wolf crashed to the ground with Adolf on top, sinking his claws into Lewis' shoulder.

Lewis could feet the Chain wrapped around his hand, even though it was nowhere near his neck anymore. When had it broken? He didn't take time for a second thought, bringing the Chain-wrapped hand up to deck Adolf square on the snout. The force of Lewis' punch sent the werewolf flying with a howl of pain.

By the time Lewis got to his feet, Adolf was human again, and blood gushed from his nose. His gaze honed on the Chain in Lewis' hand.

"How did you get that?" Adolf yelped angrily. "It belongs to my Master!" He charged toward Lewis again, but the young man brought the Chain around in front of him, flailing it like a melee weapon. The end of it caught Adolf in the side of his face, sending him reeling back. Lewis took off running again, and this time he heard a fierce cacophony of shrill bells, like so many vintage alarm clocks ringing at once. A mesh of swirling lights raced past him. Through the noise, he could hear Queen Evalia issue commands to her fairies, directing them to converge on Adolf. The timer on his watch chimed, and someone yanked on his shirt. "Run, Lewis!"

Lewis ran right out of the carnival, barely pausing to let the bus door open all the way before he flung himself on a seat, huffing and puffing as hard as he could to catch his breath.
"Next stop, Browning Academy," the driver droned, and in that moment, Lewis felt a wave of relief wash over him. Safe at last!

As the bus rumbled down the road, Queen Evalia fluttered down from his shoulder and stood on the windowsill.
"It's all right, Lewis," she said. "Adolf cannot harm you now. You fought back well."

Lewis felt a lump forming in his throat, and tears pooling against his eyes as the regret slammed into him. "I couldn't find Ashwyn," he choked. "I looked everywhere for her. Did she--"

"No, I'm afraid we never saw her either," Queen Evalia answered gently. "You tried, and for that we are grateful. Do not fear, she is a very resourceful fairy. I am certain that wherever she is, she will do what she must to survive."
>>>>>>>>>

Meanwhile, several miles away from the carnival, Krasimir Schlimme stood before a large worktable full of machines, pages of research, and various samples of strange, otherworldly plants and substances. In front of him, he had one of the globes like those in his menagerie mounted on a small stand, only this one contained a single fairy. She stared up at him defiantly, glaring with her mouth firmly shut.

Krasimir reached to the side and lifted what looked to be two vintage telephone transmitters and receivers. Both sets had been laced with a layer of fine fairy dust. He placed one transmitter at the surface of the globe and connected it to his receiver, while doing vice versa with the other parts.
"Now, little fairy, we can understand each other," he spoke into the transmitter. "Tell me where the Phantasmagyth is and I will set you free."

She stamped her foot, shook her head, and turned her back to her captor.

Krasimir only chuckled. "Very well. You vill play hard to get, I vill play my own little game!" He activated a switch on the base below the globe, and a fine pink haze began to seep out under the fairy's purple dress.
She bounded to her feet in a panic.

Krasimir laughed. "You know vhat zis is, zen. Sehr gut. I vill ask again, vhere is--"

Before he could finish, a commotion erupted at the door of his lab. Adolf stormed down the basement steps, wiping the blood from his face with a handkerchief.
Krasimir frowned at his henchman. "Vhat happened to you?"

The werewolf flopped into the nearest chair with a scowl. "I caught that screwball kid in the big tent tonight! I'm pretty sure he's in league with the Phantasmians."

The fairy in the globe seemed to flinch as Adolf's words passed through the transmitter still in Krasimir's hand. The artist noticed, and a cruel smile curled his lips. "You don't say," he responded slowly, "And did you... dispose of him?"

Adolf snorted, drawing a wince of pain as the sound passed through his injured nose. "I chased him down, all right! That's when he did this to me!" He pointed to his face, where his nose had swollen and bruised, and a deep gash shaped like the links of a chain graced his forehead.

The little fairy in the globe couldn't resist a string of taunts and a gleeful dance. She settled at once when Adolf bared his teeth at her.
"What's with the pixie?" Adolf asked of Schlimme.

"I vas trying to get some information about ze Phantasmagyth," Krasimir answered, "but judging by your face, I seenk I haf a pretty good idea vhere it is." He lifted the transmitter and asked, "Little fairy, does Lewis haf ze Phantasmagyth?"

The fairy stared hard at the two men. She didn't seem inclined to answer, but Krasimir opened the valve and released more of the pink fumes. "You can tell me," he crooned.

She seemed to waver on her feet a bit, until finally the answer came through the receiver, "He has it... but it's in two pieces..."

Krasimir rubbed his hands together. "Sehr gut! I had ze Gyth at one point, so ze other piece must be ze chain it hangs upon! So long as zey do not touch, it has no power!"

Adolf's eyes were glued to the wafting pink clouds. "What is that stuff in there with her?" he asked.
Krasimir gestured to the side of his worktable, where his field journal lay open to a page bearing a crude sketch of a small sprig of flowers. "Among ze plants I brought back with me from Phantasm to study vas a blossom known as honest-weed. I have found its effects to be zat it vill compel zose who ingest it to tell ze truth, no matter how much zey desire to conceal it." He glanced up from reading his research on the Phantasmagyth to watch the fairy with interest. "From vhat I haf learned, it is more effective ven brewed into a liquid or crushed and eaten, but I suspect it would haf been more difficult to force her to drink zan allow her to breathe in as much as she likes."

A savage growl rumbled in Adolf's chest, and he bared his teeth. "Heh-heh... Honest-tea..."

Krasimir rolled his eyes at the pun and returned to interrogating his captive. "It is in two pieces, as you say, so vhere are ze pieces?"
"Lewis has them."

Adolf slammed a fist on the table, knocking over vials and jarring sensitive equipment. "We bloody know he's got the Chain, you slop-sodden imp! That's exactly what he cut me with!"

"Calm yourself, Adolf!" Krasimir thundered. "If you insist on disrupting my vork, I will send you avay!"
Adolf bent his head with a sulky expression.

"Now," Krasimir composed himself and cleared all the anger from his face as he said gently, "Vhere vas I? Ah yes... Dear Fairy," he smiled at her with a curious tilt of his head, "it occurs to me zat I do not know your name. My name is Krasimir. Vhat may I call you, please?"

She blinked through the haze of honest-vapor. "Ashwyn," she said.

"Ashvyn, how lofely!" Krasimir pasted on a false smile, all teeth and no mirth. "Tell me, does Lewis know vhat ze Phantasmagyth does?"

"Yes, he knows."

Adolf grunted. "If he didn't, he sure knew after the museum display fell apart!"

Krasimir rolled his eyes and brushed his henchman's comment aside. "Ja, vell, so long as he does not know ze full extent of its power, ve can hope he is too scared to ever connect them again." His eyes narrowed on Ashwyn. "Does he carry both pieces on his person? Perhaps if he is captured, ve vill have it back in our hands!"

"No, he only has the one." Her voice was becoming fainter and more sing-song as the honest-weed's effects pushed her toward delirium.

"Vhich vone? Ze Chain?" Krasimir leaned in and adjusted the valve so that the administration of honest-vapor lessened.

"Yes."

"Vhere does he keep ze Gyth?"

Ashwyn began swaying on her feet. "He has it... He knows a safe place."

"Vhere?" Krasimir's voice became strained.

"A place that is safe... No one will know..."

The artist's hands clenched into fists. "Vhat manner of place? Surely he has told you!"

Ashwyn droned on, almost not acknowledging the questions. "No one will find it... A secret place only he knows..."

"Master," Adolf rumbled, "Obviously she can't tell you what she doesn't know, truth gas or not. We must find another way of getting the Phantasmagyth away from him."

Schlimme threw his hands up in disgust. "Bah! It von't matter if ve find the Gyth if ve don't haf ze--" his eyes fell on the jagged wound across Adolf's cheek. "Adolf, come here."

The henchman obliged, and Krasimir took up his field guild along with a pencil. He turned to a blank page and began sketching a negative version of the patter etched into the werewolf's face. From just those few scratches, he could extrapolate the shapes of the links. He revealed the sketch to Ashwyn. "Is zis vhat the Chain looks like?"

"Yes," she replied.

"I could have told you that!" Adolf grumbled. "I'm the one who saw it shoved in my face tonight!"

"Shut up, dummkoff!" Krasimir snapped. To Ashwyn he said, "If I vere to forge my own chain using, say, ozher Phantasmian coins and precious metals, could I zhen attach ze Gyth and make a Phantasmagyth of my own?"

Ashwyn teetered for a moment before her legs gave way and she collapsed onto the base of the globe. She seemed almost ready to faint, but Krasimir wasn't done. He sent another potent blast of honest-vapor into the globe and commanded, "Answer me! Is it possible to make my own Phantasmagyth?"

Ashwyn raised her head drowsily. "You can try," she whispered, "but it will never be as powerful as the True Phantasmagyth."

Krasimir smiled. "If it vorks efen a little, all my effort vill haf been vorth it! Adolf!"

"Yes, Master?" The werewolf grinned as well. Both smiles were cruel.

"Beginning tomorrow, you vill go to ze school vhere ze boy has his studies. Learn his schedule, and vhen you know you vill not be seen, search his personal lodgings for ze Gyth. Do not rest until you haf found it and bring it to me. I vill haf more time to myself if I don't haf a menagerie to run, so I'm seenking of doing a bit of metal-vorking."

"I will not fail you, Master," Adolf answered.

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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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Serial Saturday: "Fairies Under Glass" Part 20

Part 20

"Welcome to The Carnival"

Lewis fidgeted with the strap of his backpack as he waited at the bus stop near the central plaza of the Browning Academy campus. Today was going to be his first day at the carnival, and he wasn't sure what to expect. The letter of recommendation from Dean Rushford crinkled in his pocket, and as the bus pulled to a stop, Lewis felt his heartbeat quicken. He got on, showed the driver his student ID, and took his seat. Outside the window, a flicker of light caught his attention. The round glow settled on the sill of his window, and Ashwyn waved to him. He watched her take off in the same direction as the bus when it pulled away from the school. A lot of Lewis' anxiety dissipated at the sight of her. At least he could count on one friend in this new venture!

Storm's Carnival was a collection of large tents and a scattering of rides in a large-open field surrounded by tall trees. Lewis could hear the canned music loops playing out of several different corners as he left the bus and headed down the main thoroughfare. He could see a few spinning rides, a Ferris wheel, some swings, and a funhouse, interspersed between game booths of almost every variety. Staffers carried loads of plastic-wrapped inflatable and plushy prizes that they were still hanging on the walls of the cages separating the games.

He made his way to the bank of mobile trailers that looked like shipping containers, where he saw the one labeled "MAIN OFFICE."

When Lewis knocked on the door, a voice from inside called "Come in!"

He entered to find a paunchy, balding man scouring a sheaf of papers on a very cluttered desk. in front of the desk sat two squat, sagging chairs. He looked up when Lewis entered.
"Who are you?" he asked with a frown.

Lewis took a deep breath to steady his nerves, pulled the letter of recommendation out of his pocket, and said, "I'm Lewis Grant, sir--from Browning Academy? Are you Mr. Storm?"

The man nodded quickly and gestured to the chairs with one hand while holding the other out to receive the letter. "Ah, that's right! I did get a call that a student would be coming down to apply for work experience this weekend. Good to meet you, Lewis. Please, sit."

A brief silence hung between them as Mr. Storm read over the letter to make sure things were all in order. He set it on top of the many other papers in front of him and now surveyed Lewis with a grin. "Well, all I can say is, welcome to my carnival! Says here your work experience has been mostly a janitorial position at the campus art museum?"

Lewis fought the cringing feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had word reached Mr. Storm of the catastrophic "accident"? Would he start asking questions? "Yes, sir. Janitor, and also some warehouse work."

Mr. Storm waved his hand. "Nah, don't much care about that. Actually, we could use some extra hands to do the groundskeeping work, you know--make sure walkways are clear, empty trash bins, pick up litter, wash up spills, and in general make sure the area around the games and the rides stays looking nice. You see," he leaned back and folded his hands over his round gut, "it was as much as my usual staff could do to keep pace with the amount of guests we'd normally see in a given season, but this year, we're expanding." He sat up and pulled a colorful poster out from under the pile of letters and forms.
Lewis felt his heart pound even harder when he instantly recognized the face leering at him from the background of the poster. "KRASIMIR SCHLIMME PRESENTS: PHANTASMENAGERIE!" the poster proclaimed. In the foreground, the display boasted an emaciated-looking unicorn, a rearing and muscle-bound gryphon with bloody fangs and bared claws, and jars of glowing specks like firefly lanterns. Along the edge was a person depicted looking through the bars of a cage at a giant figure writhing in a straitjacket.

If Ashwyn saw this, it would kill her! Lewis thought. He couldn't restrain a shiver that shook his whole body.

"Gruesome, isn't it?" Mr. Storm agreed with a chuckle. "This artist approached me on Sunday and said he was an artist starting a tour with creepy and macabre fantasy items, and he wanted some space to exhibit them."

Lewis swallowed hard. "You mean, like, sculptures and stuff?" Why hadn't Schlimme just taken everything to another museum? Why seek out a carnival right next door to put his prisoners on display?
The carnival owner shook his head. "No, these were more like animatronics, or animals with alterations--visual trickery and whatnot. He asked if I would let him use the space right next to my carnival, and he said all he'd need were a few large tents for his displays, a billing on our showtime schedule, and a small percentage of admission fees, to allow guests at my carnival to explore his exhibits and performances without having to pay an additional fee."

Lewis felt his heart pounding in his ears as he listened to the man.

"At first I wasn't too keen on it--the imagery he showed me looked pretty bizarre, and I like to keep my attractions family-friendly, you know? But the artist swore it would be a huge hit with the teenage and older audiences, who might find my carnival a little boring. So I rented him the space--but I still need staff to help maintain it. There won't be as many rides or games to clean up after over on that side. I figure it would be easy for you and a couple others to just take care of the trash around those tents, and if I see that you've gotten the hang of janitorial duties, we can talk about expanding your role to maybe help run the games or rides sometimes." Mr. Storm gave Lewis a hopeful smile. "So, what do you say?"

What other choice did he have? "I think... that sounds like a great opportunity, sir," Lewis replied, sticking out his hand. "Thank you so much, Mr. Storm."

Mr. Storm chuckled and shook Lewis' hand over the desk. "Wonderful! Welcome to the team, Lewis!"

They exited the office, and Mr. Storm gestured to a similar structure down the aisle between the bank of mobiles. "This way, Lewis. All staff have lockers in these two mobiles. We'll find you an empty one where you can store your things while you're working here." He nodded to the backpack on Lewis' back.

The first mobile was full, but the second one had a few unoccupied lockers. There was a young man just closing his locker and adjusting his hat with the words "CARNIVAL STAFF" embroidered on the front.

"Ah! Casey," Mr. Storm greeted him. "This is Lewis, he's from Browning Academy and he'll be working with us in the janitor position."

The sandy-haired young man grinned and offered a handshake. "Hey, that's awesome! Welcome to the carnival life."

Mr. Storm nodded his approval. "Well, I have to get back to running things. Casey, will you show Lewis where to get his gear, and show him around the carnival grounds?"
Casey bobbed his head. "Sure," he replied.

Mr. Storm gave Lewis a pat on the shoulder. "Pay attention to where the trash cans are on your tour, young man," he said. "You won't want to miss any when this carnival gets going in full swing!"

Casey led Lewis out to another mobile with the large sign STAFF UNIFORMS. "This is where you'll pick up a uniform in your size," he explained. "Usually just a cap, a jacket, a couple shirts, and an apron if you're on a team that deals with a lot of messes."

Lewis eyed the cabinet full of carnival uniforms, and chose the articles Casey mentioned in his size. Casey waved to the other side, where the bank of washing machines and dryers were. "If your outfit gets messy, you can change it out for a clean shirt and wash the dirty one. Mr. Storm likes us all to look clean and professional as much as possible."
Lewis logged that away and followed the young man out to the attraction grounds.

"Okay," Casey continued. "So here we've got the food court, with all the carts and booths, there's a bunch of trash cans through there; then over this way, we've got the arcade of games, and then through here, a few rides."

Lewis nodded as he peeked around the basketball arcade and past the ring toss to note a few garbage cans around the arcade. The rides each had a trash can next to the exit, probably so prospective riders could deposit any trash before getting on the ride, but this carnival was much smaller than the annual county fair held in his hometown. Past the spinning ride, he spotted a second carnival gate, strung with cobwebs and painted dark colors: the PHANTASMENAGERIE, featuring the art of Krasimir Schlimme. The black fake-iron gates were flanked by distressed cement columns and squat figures of some kind. Venturing closer, Lewis recognized the shapes: bulbous goblins, but Schlimme had not endeavored to manufacture any sort of realism as he had for the art museum displays. Instead, these goblins had been coated with a substance to make them look like they were carved out of the same cement as the columns behind them.

He pointed at the gate. "What about that place?"

Casey glanced only briefly and shuddered. "The creep show? No, we don't have to go there unless the guy running it specifically requests staff from Mr. Storm. As far as I know, he's got his own staff, and all he's doing is renting that corner of the field so that he didn't have to set up his own parking lot and entrance gate. If you work at the entrance booth, you'll have a separate box for people buying access to the freak circus, so that guy gets his portion of the normal carnival entrance fees. But, personally, I'm not a fan of that spooky stuff. Especially since it's springtime--a little too late for scary stuff! But Mr. Storm says there are a lot of people who are fascinated by the macabre any time of the year, so he got the spot." Casey wagged his head. "Just don't worry about that place. You'll do all right here."

Lewis gave one last look toward Krasimir's new home to display his captive creatures. There was a conspicuously large tent behind the barriers, plenty large enough to house a giant Linda's size. The memory of her depicted in a straitjacket made his skin crawl. How much of that poster was real, and how much was just an illustration created by Schlimme to attract attention?

Thinking of Linda reminded him of Ashwyn, but as the tour wore on, and Casey explained how each game and ride worked, Lewis realized that he wouldn't have time alone to talk to the little fairy until he got back to his dorm at the end of the night. He pretended to nod along and pay attention as Casey showed him all the inner workings at the back of each booth, where the controls were, and especially any troubleshooting shutoff buttons for each game. In reality, his thoughts obsessed over the place he never wanted to go, the place he wanted to avoid more than others just about as much as he wanted to expose Schlimme again and drive him away to rescue the living creatures subjected to such heinous treatment. But what could he do about it?

"And that's about it," Casey finished, rubbing his chin. He checked his watch and bobbed his head. "Well, that puts us about dinnertime. Want to head over to the food court and pick up something? Mr. Storm gives all the staff food vouchers each week. I have an extra one you can use." He offered Lewis a rumpled piece of neon paper with the carnival logo printed on it.

"Thanks," said Lewis, shaking off the sight of the Phantasmenagerie and focusing on the other side of the carnival.

At the food court, Casey picked up some tacos and a lemonade, while Lewis headed to a cart selling chicken fingers and fries, with a soda to wash it down. On their way to a table, some other young staffers greeted Casey and invited him with them, ignoring the newcomer in the process.

Lewis sat alone at a table at the edge of the pavilion, munching on his chicken strips until something bopped against the side of his neck. He reached up to brush it away, and it gave a frantic squeal.

"Don't squish me!" Ashwyn yelped.

Lewis withdrew his hand, and pulled the edge of his collar up so the fairy could hide there. "Why are you out here?" he muttered under his breath. "I was going to head back to the lockers after this."

"You were taking too long," she insisted. "I was worried you'd forget about us."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "Okay, so what was so important that you had to risk exposing yourself to come find me?"

He felt her settle into the crook of his shoulder. "I visited Mr. Schlimme's menagerie to see what he's done with the captives. Lewis, it's awful!"

"I know," Lewis responded. "I saw the poster in Mr. Storm's office."

"No, you don't know!" Ashwyn insisted. "You see, when you activated the Phantasmagyth and freed everybody from the effects of the venim-gas, Mr. Schlimme can't make everybody stiff anymore. He has set up the attractions to make everybody look like regular Earth animals, or mechanical toys."

"Did he really put Linda in a straitjacket?" Lewis wanted to know.

"Not exactly," Ashwyn answered after a moment. "He tied ropes to all her limbs and joints, rigging them to a frame at the top of the tent, so she can't move unless someone is pulling on the ropes. He also has some kind of a mask plastered over her face, that he can control like one of your puppets, so she looks like a fake invention." Her wings buzzed against his neck. "He's done all the Phantasmians up to be so fake and cheap-looking, meanwhile his ogres and goblins are all disguised as regular humans, and they are the ones working around his show!"

Lewis' alarm went off, and he realized that he needed to leave right then, or he'd miss the last bus back to Browning Academy.

"How are we going to get out of this, Ashwyn?" he asked on his way out of Storm's Carnival.
"I really don't know, Lewis," replied the fairy. "But we have to try!"

Lewis shook his head and bid her farewell as he boarded the bus. One thing was very clear: activating the Phantasmagyth had done very little to actually save any of the captive Phantasmians. Krasimir Schlimme would not rest until he had the complete Phantasmagyth in his possession.

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Reader's Review: "Beauty and Beastly" by Melanie Karsak

Synopsis from Amazon:

When Isabelle Hawking and her father set out from London on a sea voyage, Isabelle is thrilled. Visiting foreign courts, learning from master tinkerers, and studying clockwork mechanisms is her dream. And it doesn't hurt that the trip also offers Isabelle an escape from her overbearing and unwanted suitor, Gerard LeBoeuf.
But Isabelle never arrives. Swept up in a tempest, her ship is lost.
Isabelle survives the storm only to be shipwrecked on a seemingly deserted island. The magical place, dotted with standing stones, faerie mounds, and a crumbling castle, hints of an ancient past. Isabelle may be an unwilling guest, but her arrival marks a new beginning for the beastly residents of this forgotten land.
>>>>>>>

My Review:

Melanie Karsak is an author I've been following for a while, ever since I read her steampunk take on "Red Riding Hood", Wolves and Daggers. It's an early one, but I enjoyed it very much.

As far as retellings go, this story was glorious! I've read plenty of "Beauty and The Beast" retellings, even recently participating in an anthology themed around "roses", leading to several stories (including my own submission) taking on the classic tale with our own spins. But when Karsak puts her signature steampunk/gaslamp twist on it, she really takes the story from "great" to "magnificent"!

Rather than inventing a horrendous beast-creature or dragon or what-have-you in an abandoned castle for her cursed character, Karsak has isolated him on an island where the animals and even the rose gardens around the castle are all enchanted clockwork! Rather than "Belle" being a dreamy girl who is constantly reading and very ostracized by her community, Karsak gives us a young woman of substance in Isabelle, an intelligent tinkerer, an inventor in her own right, and someone who makes plans and doesn't give up on accomplishing them.

The clockwork servants around the castle are fantastic, and the twists Karsak puts into the story are so fun and inventive. Plus, fans of the story will enjoy a highly-entertaining "Easter-egg hunt" with all the clever references Karsak adds to her own unique tale. (Including some bonus nods to Shakespeare's The Tempest! Don't think I didn't suss those out immediately!) I giggled, I gasped, I snorted, I sighed.... and most importantly, I couldn't stop reading!

Beauty and Beastly hits ALL the hallmarks of a great fairytale retelling: inventive characters, a compelling plot, quippy dialogue that doesn't feel forced or contrived or overly expositional, and a satisfying ending that will have every fairytale-loving reader squealing with happiness! To the surprise of absolutely no one, I give it the full *****5 STAR***** rating, and add in an Upstream Writer Certified WHOLLY RECOMMENDED endorsement! The romance is clean and sweet, the character development is on-point, and I'm definitely putting this one among my favorite retellings, and definitely the best version of "Beauty and The Beast" out there!

Further Reading: (Fairy Tales/Clean Reading/Retellings/Steampunk)

-The Girl and The Clockwork Cat--Nikki McCormack

The Alexander Legacy--Sophronia Belle Lyon
       -A Dodge, A Twist, and A Tobacconist 
       -The Pinocchio Factor

Punk Anthologies--Writerpunk Press Group
      -Sound & Fury: Shakespeare Goes Punk, Vol. 1 
      -Once More Unto The Breach: Shakespeare Goes Punk, Vol. 2 
      -What We've Unlearned: Classic Literature Goes Punk

-Dreamtime Dragons--Dreamtime Fantasy Authors

-The Wendy--Erin Michelle Sky 

-Severance--M. A. Smith 

The Fair Folk Chronicles--Jeffrey Cook and Katherine Perkins
        -Foul is Fair 
        -Street Fair 
        -A Fair Fight 
        -All's Fair 

Verona: The Complete Mermaid Tales--Pauline Creeden
       -Scales 
       -Submerged 
       -Salt 
       -Surfacing

Wonderland Guardian Academy Series--Pauline Creeden
       -Red The Wolf Tracker

       -Belle The Beast Tamer

-Mythical Doorways--Fellowship of Fantasy