Page 67 of Howling Eve

The chair dragged against the dirt as it scooted back, and the woman stood and gave Nivira an unfocused smile. “Thank you. It’s so lovely to hear that… soon,” she murmured absently as she set a coin on the table between them and walked away on weak, trembling legs. MaryAnne watched her go with concern, and Nivira sighed, her chair creaking as she settled back into it and reached over to pluck her knitting needles from her basket.

“Poor thing.” She shook her head grimly, and her needles clacked as a spindly spider leg lowered from over her shoulder to adjust her threads. “I don’t know what Elwyn was thinking of wintering here yet another year when he saw the condition of things when we arrived. They’ve deteriorated fast over the last year, and it seems that over the last month it’s become worse.”

MaryAnne peered over at her curiously and stocked the packets into two separate baskets that she carried to the small table at Nivira’s side.

“Is it common for you to winter in the same spot?”

The drya shrugged. “We would occasionally return once or twice, but never more than that. Elwyn hoped that because there was such a close cluster of towns inhabited by both humans and fae that The Bend would provide everything we could need while we were here.” She sighed and poured a cup of tea from the teapot beside her. “I certainly have never seen fog so terrible. I can’t even imagine why the dryad likes it so much. The island must be dreadful with it. But then again, his kind is a bit odd. Nymphs enjoy wetter conditions than most of us.”

MaryAnne shivered a little. “I can’t imagine living here. This entire place is creepy, and the things that I saw in that town… well, they made your last customer look like a shining beacon of good health.”

Nivira took a sip of her tea, a thoughtful look on her face. Lowering the cup, her head cocked in consideration. “Oh, I don’t know. The forests around here were once quite lovely. I imagine this place is beautiful much of the rest of the year. It could be a perfectly lovely place to live once the carnival’s magic leaves and gives The Bend some time to recover, what with the carnival not returning next winter.”

MaryAnne stared at the drya that she’d slowly come to regard as her friend. “The carnival isn’t returning next year? This is the first that I’ve heard of that. Elwyn struck me as quite insistent on staying right here.”

Nivira laughed softly. “I suppose gossip has been spreading a little slower these days. But yes, word is that Elwyn is considering wintering further south next year. It could be nice, but I don’t think Ayla and I will continue with him.” A disappointed sigh left her. “We do love the safety here, and the south doesn’t agree with us at all. The heat sounds perfectly dreadful to a species like ours who prefer cool shade. We may just search for our little corner of a forest. Some place close to a town or village where we can resupply and enjoy a bit of local gossip.”

“Makes sense,” MaryAnne murmured even as her thoughts raced. Was Elwyn the culprit after all? Raskyuil had seemed pretty sure that he wasn’t, but no one else was in any position to benefit from the strange goings-on. While it seemed a little too convenient, she also vaguely recalled a saying… something about how the simplest answer is often the correct answer. That had Elwyn written all over it.

In any case, it was strange that he would suddenly consider changing the wintering grounds next yearaftercarrying out his ritual. He didn’t plan on just wintering somewhere else, but he was changing his route entirely! That sort of game plan only seemed to be necessary if he wanted to distance himself from some sort of crime. If that were the case, surely he would also want to get rid of anyone who might be suspicious of him.

“Is there anyone else not continuing with the carnival?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Nivira murmured and sipped her tea thoughtfully. “It’s just chatter. I think maybe the orcs are moving on, but that doesn’t surprise me as they prefer their mountains and temperate conditions similar to us.” Her lips curled with a smile. “And they’ve never been very fond of Elwyn. Perhaps the mountain troll as well if he can latch onto a small group. If not, he will probably continue south with the rest of the carnival. The harpy Esmeralda and her brothers Finio and Vorago spoke of finding a more comfortable roosting spot, and I think the siren is considering trying a coastal town down the way.”

She paused for a long moment. “I also believe several of the goblin families have spoken of leaving. It’s actually quite surprising when this sort of thing plays into exactly what they enjoy. I never thought I would see the day that the carnival would be without goblins.” She chuckled softly. “Well, I suppose I won’t be seeing it, will I? Strange since I never imagined leaving it either, but things change suddenly and for reasons we don’t understand.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” MaryAnne agreed, and she glanced covertly at the door. No one else had yet arrived at the tent. This was the perfect opportunity to make her escape. “Do you think it would be all right if I went out, just for a little bit?” she added quickly before the drya could protest. “I’ve got enough packets made for another fifteen clients and I know I’ll be back before you use them all. Just keep this between us, okay?”

Nivira frowned worriedly at her. “What are you planning, MaryAnne?”

“Well, the Hallow Night is coming, and I just want to see what I can find out to save the fog children,” MaryAnne explained, staying on the razor’s edge of the truth. She felt safe doing so since this was a subject that she had talked of what the drya twins on multiple occasions while she was left in their company.

While Ayla had expressed increasing reluctance to talk about it, Nivira had always chatted with her freely on the subject and sympathized with the dismay she felt whenever she caught sight of them. She had been an especially empathetic listener when she spoke of their strange behavior the day that she had sought out Raskyuil.

“Still following you about, are they? I hope they haven’t been tormenting you with any more of their pranks,” Nivira added with a disapproving frown.

MaryAnne managed to force a convincing laugh and shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I catch little glimpses of them, but I’m just getting… worried,” she finished lamely on a false note, struggling not to reveal just how worried she was becoming as it got closer to the Hallow Night.

“I see.” The drya pursed her lips but eventually nodded. “Be quick. I will cover for you for as long as I can but there won’t be much that I can do if Elwyn decides to walk through the grounds. He will not take kindly to you fussing about impermanent fog children rather than focusing on what he considers far more important. Perhaps rightly so,” she added with an unhappy sigh. “There is naught we can do for the dead, MaryAnne. It is better to concern ourselves with the living, whose lives we can briefly touch with a bit of pleasure and fun. I hope you realize this sooner rather than later. It will make your life here so much easier if you forget about the lost ones. They are not here, not really.”

MaryAnne stared at her as she struggled to contain the sob that worked its way up her throat. They weren’t dead. She was certain of it. Raskyuil was too. She didn’t know why everyone else in the Night Carnival believed them to be ghosts but it was clear that they weren’t—they were simply stuck there in the fog of the carnival. They were being sustained somehow. She managed a wobbly smile and stood.

“I appreciate the advice. I will… think about it,” she said hesitantly, her lips twisting in a grimace.

Nivira smiled kindly at her and nodded. “You do that. Some perspective will really help. You will feel a lot better once Hallows Night passes. We all do.”

MaryAnne mutely hastened out of the tent before her composure broke entirely. As it was, she had to take a minute to stand outside the tent and take deep breaths to calm herself before she could even think about taking a step into the carnival grounds.

She didn’t think the drya or any of the other fae were being unnecessarily cruel when it came to the fog children—hell, the goblins were still covertly searching for them and the reason that they were trapped there as far as the twins were aware. They had just given up a long time ago and were doing what they could to cope with what they perceived to be a new haunting that was revisited upon them year after year.

Who knew how many children had been trapped by the carnival and died every Hallow Night, their presence dismissed as ghosts caught within the midst of the carnival as the night of the dead crept nearer? She might have almost believed the same if she weren’t certain that her children were stolen away alive and were trapped within the carnival as well.

That just meant that all the children there, not just hers, were depending on MaryAnne and Raskyuil to get them out of there.

ChapterForty-One

MaryAnne stepped out into the crowd, her eyes bouncing from one spot to the next as she headed down the path. Aside from the first night that she had accompanied Raskyuil, she hadn’t been out in the carnival while it was running since the day she took her kids to it. For a moment she allowed herself to be captivated by the performers.

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