“What was that awful racket?” Sam DaVinci, the artist, asked. He was working on his second pint of ale.
“Something smashed into the stadium lights. Probably birds, confused by the storm.” Lord Maximus yawned. He was the master of ceremonies of the Birds of Prey show at the Hawk Stage. “I think they were struck by lightning.”
“It’s just the storm,” Mother Goose said like it was gospel. She’d been at the Village longer than almost everyone else. She had her goose, Phineas, with her. She rarely went anywhere without him.
“Guess we better batten down the hatches.” Fred the Red Dragon was still in the bottom half of his costume as he swallowed the last of his beer.
Seeing Fred in that partial dragon costume made me shiver. It was too much like what I’d seen for real in Madame Lucinda’s tent.
It wasn’t for real!
On the other hand, seeing him that way made me realize that she wasn’t necessarily part dragon-part woman. Sometimes things were unbelievable here in the Village. On a crazy night like that, anything seemed possible. In the clear light of day, it wouldn’t seem the same.
“More ale, Lady Jessie?”
I looked up. It was the young man from the Field of Honor that Chase had saved. He didn’t look old enough to serve alcohol, but I knew Hephaestus would have checked him out thoroughly before he let him work there. We had to abide by the same laws as businesses outside the Village.
Like many others here, the young man probably had to moonlight at another job to make a living.
“Sure. Why not?” I flipped him a quarter—my last one. “How are you doing after all the excitement?”
He smiled as he poured the ale. “I’m fine. A little excitement is good for the soul, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. A little.” I marveled again at his smooth good looks. He was so young. I knew he had to be twenty-one, but he didn’t look more than twelve. “I’m sorry. I forgot your name.”
“Tim.” He sat down opposite from me. “Did you see the lightning hit the stadium lights?”
“No.” I mulled over how much to tell him. He’d been at the jousting field. He had to know something was up. “It was the same ghost again. She’s determined to do whatever damage she can. She’s dead before her time, you know. I don’t really blame her. It wasn’t her fault that she was murdered.”
His clear, sky-blue eyes stared into mine. He didn’t seem surprised by what I’d said. “You mean Wanda Le Fey.”
“Yes. Do you believe in ghosts?”
“I guess I’d be foolish not to, wouldn’t I? It would mean doubting the evidence I’d seen with my own eyes.”
“That’s very mature of you.” I sipped my ale. “I wish I could be more mature about it.”
“Wanda annoys you?”
“She’s annoying the whole Village. With me, it’s more than that. I think she’s taking it out on me because she has to go through eternity painted blue.”
He laughed. “Is that what happened? I was wondering.”
I lowered my head and whispered, “You can see her?”
“Yes. Can’t everyone?”
“No. They can’t. And if you’re smart, you won’t let on that you can see her either. She’ll ruin your life. Her ex-husband, Shakespeare, is hiding in the only place we know of that she can’t go in for some reason—except for Madame Lucinda’s tent.”
“You mean the fortune teller.” He nodded. “I haven’t been to see her yet. They keep the squires busy during the day.”
“I know. I was a squire for a while.” I sipped more ale. “I’m going to have to do some research. There has to be some reason why Wanda can’t go into the museum.”
“I know why.” My brother, Tony, joined us. “Adventureland probably buried bodies at all four corners of the foundation as eternal sentinels to prevent evil from getting inside.”
My brother and I were fraternal twins—and there the likeness ended. He thought responsibility was a dirty word. He had a hard time committing to anything. He went through money like there was no tomorrow—a problem I’d had to bail him out of many times.
Tony got my father’s brown eyes, and I got my mother’s blue ones. We were both almost exactly the same height—six feet—and we both wore size twelve shoes.
“That was a common practice many years ago,” Tim agreed with him.
“Come on. Nobody buried any bodies in the Village to prevent evil,” I scoffed. “Yes, they did it centuries ago, but the Village isn’t that old. There’s something else.”