Legend insisted that Vinette fled blindly, Milo on her heels. She in her dinner gown, he wrapped in the dripping pelt of the wolf, his face flayed. He brought her down in the field and tore her flesh with nails and teeth. When he had done for her, the magician fled into the hills. His wounds festered, as did his madness. Over the course of a fortnight, he roamed the land, murdering farmers, truck-stop waitresses, untended children, and other hapless folk.
Eventually, he took shelter in an abandoned wolf den on a desolate mountainside. The men of the carnival, led by an enraged and grieving Artemis, came with lanterns and rifles. Milo charged the hunters and they cut him down in a blaze of gunfire. He cursed them with his dying breath. And lo, a few years later, the carnival troupe became aware of a dark presence haunting the show. Mysterious and brutal killings began. Beasley had filled me in on the rest.
“Tonight is the fiftieth anniversary of Milo’s murder of Vinette,” Conway said.
“Of course it is.” I considered a void, then a crack of white light, all the fire pouring forth, and a sweet young thing’s face contorted in screams at the heart of the inferno.
Beasley leaned over and whispered into my ear.
“Please help. The Gallowses will make it worth your while.”
We’d see, wouldn’t we?
Benson and Robert Gallows returned from wherever in an antiquated flatbed truck. Fraternal twins, middle aged, dressed in fleece and plaid and denim. It appeared Benson was the drinker of the pair. His hair had gone white. Gin blossoms patterned his squashed nose. Robert’s hair was dark, his features somewhat delicate. No burst blood vessels or cauliflower ears. Both wore revolvers under their coats and wolfsbane garlands around their necks.
Beasley explained that I knew the history of the alleged curse and that I hadn’t entirely decided to play the role of doomed Vinette.
“What do you think?” Benson Gallows said.
“She doesn’t resemble Vinette,” Robert Gallows said. “However, the proper spirit counts for everything. There’s also the factor that we have little choice.”
“Agreed.”
“Hello, boys,” I said. “You two could try talking to me since I’m standing right here.”
“You were with Beasley when he discovered the remains,” Benson Gallows said. “You haven’t hightailed it for the hills. That is an intriguing sign.”
“Technically we’re in the hills. Also, I think you’re a bunch of kooks, or you’re having me on.”
“Come now, you saw the corpses,” Robert Gallows said. “No chicanery there.”
“I’ve some experience with murderers and none with mumbo- jumbo curses. Primarily because murderers are real while curses are not.”
“The belief some hold in them is real enough to draw blood. Leaving that aside, what would it take for you to indulge us our role-playing exercise tonight?”
“Role-playing?”
Robert Gallows nodded.
“Easy as pie, my dear. You dress to the nines, enjoy a world-class supper with the company, and then retrace Vinette’s path from the night she died.”
“From the night she was horribly murdered, you mean.”
“Yes. While you’re wandering in the field, the rest of us will enact—”
“We’ll perform our mumbo-jumbo,” Benson Gallows said.
“Your hoodoo is going to do what? Trap the ghost, or werewolf? My bad, I don’t know what you boys are calling your fairy nemesis.”
“It’s a revenant, a spirit of vengeance. We want to trap it in a circuit. Then open that circuit. Not your concern. Your concern is to look pretty and follow a scripted sequence of movements.”
“So, how much?” Robert Gallows said.
I thought fast.
“Uh, ten grand. Cash.” The ol’ Mace piggy bank rattled emptily of late. My heart sank when the brothers smiled as one.
“Done,” Robert Gallows said. “Let’s make you presentable, shall we?”
“Keep that creepy sheriff away from me. He’s a deal breaker.”
“As you say. Sheriff Holcomb will not come within a country mile of your person. Right, Beasley?”
“A country mile,” Beasley said without enthusiasm.
“Then we have a deal,” Benson Gallows said. “I must warn you, however. A deal really is a deal. Sealed in blood as far as we’re concerned.”
“Indeed,” said Robert Gallows. “Should you renege on our arrangement, there will be consequences. The sheriff sounds as if he’s taken a shine to you, Ms. Mace. I am sure he’d be amenable to drumming up any number of phony charges to lock you in his jail for a while. Vagrancy and trespassing on private land among others.” At least the bastard had the decency to seem embarrassed. He shuffled his feet and glanced away. “Apologies for this element of threat. The warning is necessary.”
“Beasley,” I said.
“Hey, you shook hands.” He too averted his gaze.
Benson Gallows sighed in exasperation.
“Please, please, everyone. Dispense with the melodrama. No one is going to jail. Keep your word and all will be well. Simple as that.”
“I’ll alert the girls,” Robert Gallows said. “They’ll prepare you for the festivities.”
“Blow it out your ass,” I said. But I went along.
Mary the Magnificent and Lila the Bearded Lady took me into their trailer to get ready for the “dinner and a séance” portion of my upcoming date with Beasley. I had doubts about Mary — her spine was so twisted with muscle she hunched; her hands were enormous and rough as cobs. Nonetheless, she could’ve had a chair in a Beverly Hills salon if the magic she worked on my snarled mane with a jug of warm water and a washtub was any indicator. After bathing and styling came the glamour detailing. I’m okay with makeup, though I don’t usually apply much, if any. The ladies laid it on thick. Lila took charge, and she too exhibited a deft touch. After the detailing, they put me into a dress that would’ve done well for a night on the town visiting swanky 1960s hotspots. White and flowing, open in back and slit up to here on the side. Entirely too seductive for supper in a carnival tent in the middle of nowhere, Montana.
When they finally handed me a mirror I gasped.
The ladies’ reflections smiled at one another. I turned my head and dark clouds descended.
“Lila and I ran away from the circus,” Mary said. “This is where we landed.”
“A grave mistake,” Lila said. “Carnivals are much direr.”
“Because of the psycho killers?” I admired my cleavage. “Or because this one killed the clowns? Seriously, what gives? I’ve hunted high and low and seen nary a trace. Isn’t that carnival sacrilege?”
Mary smiled venomously.
“Scoff. We thought the curse was a joke too. Bitterly, bitterly we’ve learned otherwise. We are trapped.”
“Someone should do something,” I said, dry as toast.
“We’ve tried,” Lila said. “This is beyond our reckoning.”
“It’s not beyond mine. People’s heads are getting severed. Kinda physical for a ghost.”
“Perhaps you are an expert in this area,” Lila said.
“I straighten horseshoes with my bare hands. I can lift a grand piano on my back.” Mary flexed her massive biceps. “Even I could not hope to confront the terror in the hills and survive.”
“Run,” Lila said. “And don’t look back. You aren’t a part of this yet.”
“She won’t run. Ever seen a more stubborn jaw? Our friend is a warrior. She will fight.”
“Who’s out there?” I said. “Really, no bullshit.”
“Some sort of Jungian manifestation,” Lila said. “The shadow personified.”
“Baby, that’s the best description I’ve ever heard.” Mary kissed the bearded lady’s cheek. “Whatever the truth, don’t mess with it, it’ll turn you to mincemeat.”