Seasons of Sorcery Read online

  “It could be worse.” I pointed at my own hideous shirt. “You could be wearing feathers, like me.”

  “At least you get to hide in the Pork Pit truck most of the day.” Bria sighed and picked at one of the sequins on her poofy skirt. “I have to walk around and let people take pictures of me in this thing. Pictures that will be online forever. Xavier is never going to let me live this down.”

  Xavier was Bria’s partner on the force and another one of our friends, although he was missing the faire. Lucky, lucky man.

  Finn held up his hands. “Hey, it wasn’t my idea to pimp us out and make us actually work at the faire. That was all Grayson’s genius plan.”

  “As I’ve told you many, many times now, the Ashland Renaissance Players donate part of the proceeds from their ticket and concession sales to food banks, homeless shelters, and other charities,” Owen said. “Darrell, one of the guys in my office, is really into the whole ren-faire scene. When I told him about the tickets I’d won, he said that the Renaissance Players were having trouble finding volunteers. So I thought we could help out.”

  I put my arm around his waist. “And that’s one of the reasons I love you.”

  He grinned back and pulled me closer. “Don’t worry. We’re only volunteering for a couple of hours. We’ll still have plenty of time to walk around and enjoy the faire.”

  “Volunteer?” Finn shuddered, as though the word was some awful curse. “Don’t you know that I only play the part of the fool for money?”

  “And here I thought you did it for free every single day,” I drawled.

  Finn rolled his eyes at my teasing, then turned back to the mirror and checked the bells on his jester’s hat again, making sure they were perfectly draped in place.

  “We need to get going,” a low, eerie voice rasped. “Gotta get the truck set up.”

  More footsteps sounded, and another woman entered the salon. Sophia Deveraux was a dwarf like her sister, Jo-Jo, although she was much younger, with a thicker, stronger, more muscled body. Sophia was wearing a ruffled white silk shirt patterned with tiny grinning black skulls, along with black leather pants. The tops of her knee-high black leather boots were turned down, revealing the soft white interior, which was also patterned with black skulls. A large black crystal skull pendant with royal-blue heart-shaped eyes hung from her neck, while a silver cutlass dangled from her black leather belt, along with a small old-fashioned spyglass.

  A white bandanna patterned with small black skulls covered her head, and the ends of her black hair had been dyed a bright blue and dusted with matching glitter. Smoky shadow rimmed Sophia’s black eyes, and her lips were the same royal blue as mine.

  Sophia had kicked her usual Goth style up several notches for the ren faire. The rest of us might look like we were playing dress-up, but not her. Sophia totally owned that outfit from top to bottom.

  I let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Now, that is what a badass Goth dwarf pirate queen assassin is supposed to look like.”

  Sophia winked at me, then grabbed the cutlass off her belt and brandished it high in the air, as though she was calling her rowdy pirate crew to order.

  “Yargh!” she cried out, shepherding us out of the salon. “To the faire!”

  Chapter Two

  Thirty minutes later, Finn pulled his Aston Martin into a gravel parking lot, and he, Bria, Owen, and I got out of the car.

  Even though it was a cold, blustery January morning, hundreds of people had still come out for the Winter’s Web Renaissance Faire in Riverfront Park, and Finn had snagged one of the few remaining parking spots. We fell in with the flow of people streaming toward a black wrought-iron fence that marked the park entrance. Brightly colored ribbons had been woven through the bars, along with strings of silver bells, as if to add a bit of jingling cheer to the winter day.

  Beyond the fence was a flat, grassy space that was serving as the concessions area. Food trucks, vans, and carts lined both sides of the expanse, with several wooden picnic tables and metal trash cans clustered in the middle. I focused on a white truck that featured a logo of a pig holding a platter of food, along with the words Pork Pit on the side. Sophia had already found a spot among the other trucks, although she wouldn’t open for business until I came to help her.

  Many of the other trucks, vans, and carts were already serving food, and the sticky-sweet smells of kettle corn and cotton candy curled through the air, along with the warm, rich scents of hot chocolate and cinnamon-apple cider and the harsher, greasier aromas of French fries and funnel cakes.

  Finn drew in a deep appreciative breath, then sighed it out. “Ah. I love the smell of faire food in the morning.”

  Bria elbowed him in the side. “We’re here to volunteer, remember? Not eat ourselves into a sugar coma.”

  Finn pouted, but then he spotted a guy dressed like a barbarian gnawing on an enormous turkey leg, and he perked right back up again. “I am totally getting one of those for lunch.”

  Bria rolled her eyes, while Owen and I laughed. We walked through the concessions area and stopped, staring out at the scene before us.

  As its name implied, Riverfront Park fronted the Aneirin River as it cut through Ashland, and the grass spread out in all directions like a dull green picnic blanket. Stone paths wound through much of the park, many of them leading to water fountains, swing sets, and more picnic tables. Several rhododendron and other bushes dotted the landscape, along with a few towering maples with bare, skeletal branches.

  The east side of the park butted up against the city, with metal-and-glass skyscrapers looming just a few blocks away. Over there, a low stone wall cordoned off the grass from the river below before opening up into a wide pedestrian bridge that crossed the water and led into the downtown area.

  On the west side of the park, the stone paths winnowed to dirt hiking trails that vanished into the thick brown woods. Beyond the trees, an old rust-colored barn perched on a hill in the distance, like a weary, worn-out soldier keeping watch on all the activities below.

  The park itself was pretty enough, but what made it truly interesting were the people roaming around inside.

  Especially since most of them were in costume.

  Jesters, princesses, pirates, wizards, minstrels, witches, and more had gathered for the renaissance faire. Most of the outfits were simple—crystal tiaras, plastic swords, and black eye patches paired with store-bought velvet shirts and leather pants and boots.

  But some of the ensembles were quite elaborate and handcrafted with obvious, impressive skill, like the exquisite embroidery of winter snowflakes, spring flowers, summer suns, and autumn leaves on a sorceress’s long, flowing blue cloak. Or the knight encased in a full suit of armor that featured jagged marks carved into the metal, along with streaks of red paint, as though he had barely survived being attacked by some monster with extremely sharp claws.

  Even the folks who weren’t dressed in bona fide costumes were still sporting superhero and other fantasy T-shirts, jackets, and hoodies, while many of the kids were waving sparkling magic wands and running around with glittery fairy wings attached to their backs.

  “Well,” Bria said, “at least we’re not the only ones in costume.”

  “There is that small favor,” I agreed.

  Whether they were in costume or not, people were already moving from one wooden booth and tented area to the next. Vendors manned many of the booths, selling everything from old-fashioned jewelry and replica weapons to handmade soaps and perfumes, while the tents were spaces for face painting, storytelling, and other activities.

  In keeping with the Winter’s Web theme, all the booths and tents had been decorated with plastic silver snowflakes and icicles, pale blue cobwebs, and strings of white and blue fairy lights. Snowflakes, icicles, and cobwebs also decorated many of the water fountains, swing sets, and picnic tables, while lights had been wrapped around several trees and bushes. A few machines were scattered about, blowing fake flakes of white and blue snow u
p into the air. Despite my earlier grumblings, even I had to admit that it made for a lovely, enchanting scene.

  “We just need to find Darrell, and he’ll tell us where to go,” Owen said.

  He’d barely finished speaking when a voice rose above the chattering crowd.

  “Owen! There you are!”

  A forty-something man stepped around a passel of giggling teenage princesses and hurried over to us. He was tall and thin, with shaggy, sandy-brown hair, hazel eyes, and silver glasses. Like Finn, he was dressed in a green velvet shirt, along with matching pants and boots, although his outfit was much more muted and practical than my brother’s striped jester costume. An old-fashioned wooden bow was strapped to the man’s back, along with a black leather quiver full of arrows, as though he was some ren-faire Robin Hood.

  He would have looked really cool, except for two things: the clipboard he was clutching and the white paper tag on his shirt that read Ashland Renaissance Players, Event Staff. The modern touches totally ruined the derring-do vibe of his costume.

  Owen smiled and stepped forward to shake the other man’s hand. “Hey, Darrell. Looks like you’re going to have a great turnout for the faire, despite the cold weather.”

  “Well, it is called Winter’s Web,” the other man joked. “I guess it would be false advertising if it wasn’t cold. Ha-ha-ha-ha.”

  Darrell Kline was an accountant who worked for Owen and the reason we were here. In addition to managing money, Darrell was also one of the board members of the Ashland Renaissance Players and was heavily involved in staging the faire. He had been talking to Owen about volunteering at the event ever since Owen had won the tickets.

  I had met Darrell a few weeks ago at the holiday party Owen hosted for his workers at the Pork Pit. He had seemed like a nice enough guy, but he had lit up like, well, a Christmas tree once he started talking about his passion.

  Darrell was into ren faires the way people in Bigtime were into superheroes or the folks in Cloudburst Falls were into monsters. During the holiday party, he had talked my ear off about all the faires, festivals, and other events he attended in Ashland and beyond. He’d also whipped out his phone and shown me photos of the costumes, weapons, and more that he wore to the events, along with his other collectibles.

  Darrell had proudly revealed that he had an entire room in his house devoted to his ren-faire treasures. One-of-a-kind this, limited-edition that, hard-to-come-by thingamabob. All his photos, items, and excited chatter had blurred together after a while, although I’d been shocked at how much some of the swords, jewelry, and costumes had cost. Darrell’s taste for the finer (medieval) things in life was right up there with Finn’s insatiable appetite for Fiona Fine designer suits. Then again, Darrell and Finn were far less likely to get blood on their fancy costumes and sleek suits than I was on my generic clothes. But it was their money, not mine. To each his own.

  “Thanks so much for coming,” Darrell said. “I know you won the tickets, but I think it’s so great that you and your friends wanted to volunteer.”

  “Volunteer?” Finn muttered. “More like being coerced—”

  Bria elbowed him in the side again, cutting off his complaint. Finn let out a strangled cough and rubbed his ribs. Darrell glanced at the two of them, but Bria gave him a bright, sunny smile, as though nothing was wrong.

  Owen introduced Bria and Finn, then gestured at me. “And of course, you remember Gin from the holiday party.”

  Darrell faced me. He drew in a breath as though he was going to murmur a greeting, but then his hazel gaze locked onto my royal-blue blouse with its shiny black thread, winking sequins, and mounds of fluttering feathers. His eyes widened, and his lips puckered into a silent O of surprise. I sighed. I had a feeling I was going to get a lot of those looks today. Even among all the costumes here, mine was truly horrific.

  Darrell quickly smiled and stretched out his hand. “Gin, it’s nice to see you again.”

  Despite the cold air, his hand was surprisingly warm and sticky, and I had to hold back a grimace as I shook it. “You too. Have you added any new treasures to your collection lately?”

  He blinked, and his head jerked back, as if the question surprised him. But after a moment, he smiled again. “Oh, just a few things. Nothing too spectacular. Although there is something here today that I have my eye on.”

  I smiled. “Well, I hope you get it.”

  “Me too,” he murmured. “Me too.”

  Darrell stared at me a moment longer before turning back to Owen. “Actually, before we get started, I was hoping to steal you away so we could discuss the Harrison account. I want to talk about how to get the forensic accountant set up when she comes in on Monday to review the files. Your friends could check out the faire while we talk. It shouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes.”

  Owen shook his head and clapped the other man on the shoulder. “No business today. We’re here to help you, remember? We can talk about the account audit when we’re back in the office on Monday.”

  Darrell nodded. “Okay, then. First things first. We ask that volunteers turn off their phones while they’re working so that they can really focus on the crowd. It also helps to promote the magical atmosphere.”

  “Turn off my phone? Kill me now,” Finn muttered.

  Bria drew back her arm like she was going to elbow him again. Finn knew when he was beaten, and he quickly sidestepped her, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and powered it down. The rest of us turned off our phones as well.

  Darrell nodded again and looked at his clipboard. “Okay, let’s get you guys to your stations.”

  We followed him deeper into the park. In addition to the booths and tents, several small wooden stages had been set up so that minstrels, magicians, jugglers, and others could perform. Soft strains of music floated through the air, along with appreciative cheers, claps, and whistles.

  But the pièce de résistance was the ship.

  Well, it wasn’t an actual ship but rather an enormous stage that had been built to look like the deck of a ship, complete with a wooden railing, a brass steering wheel, and several small cannons. People dressed like sailors were scurrying around, checking the ropes and pulleys that hung across the stage like thick brown spiderwebs, as though they were preparing the vessel to set sail. In the center of the deck, a woman was hoisting a traditional skull-and-crossbones flag up the main mast.

  “Is that a pirate ship?” Bria asked.

  Darrell beamed at her. “It is. Well, not a real ship, of course. I couldn’t get one of those.” His lips puckered in disappointment. “But the highlight of the faire is our noon show, where the beautiful Pirate Queen Celeste will fight the evil Captain Walls.”

  “It sounds like quite a production,” Finn said.

  Darrell beamed again. “Oh, it is. You guys don’t want to miss it. But for right now, let’s get you settled.”

  We dropped Bria off at Princess Penelope’s Pink Wardrobe, a tented area where children could try on everything from princess dresses to tiaras to fairy wings. Several kids were getting their faces painted, while others were running around with plastic swords and shields, as though they were gallant knights in search of monsters to slay.

  A couple of little girls squealed with delight when they caught sight of Bria. “Look! Look!” one of them shouted. “It’s Princess Penelope!”

  Bria smiled and stepped forward to talk to the girls.

  Next, Darrell led us over to the Jesters Court, another tented area, which was full of, you guessed it, jesters. Men and women wearing costumes similar to Finn’s were juggling balls, engaging in acrobatics, performing pratfalls, and generally making fools of themselves, much to the delight and laughter of the onlookers.

  “Oh, Finn,” I drawled. “You’re going to fit right in here.”

  My brother gave me a dirty look. “You owe me dinner at Underwood’s for this humiliation.”

  I waggled my fingers at him. “Go on, now. Have fun.”

  Fin
n glowered at me another moment, but he plastered a smile on his face, stepped into the court, and started hamming it up with the other jesters. Despite his horror of volunteering and turning off his phone, he really was a good sport.

  Darrell checked something off on his clipboard, then gestured at Owen and me. “This way, guys.”

  He led us back to the front of the park and over to a large open-air pavilion that was close to the food trucks. A makeshift forge had been set up inside, and a couple of blacksmiths were already hammering away and demonstrating how horseshoes, swords, and other items had been made back in the olden days. It was the perfect spot for Owen, who was a metal elemental and had his own forge at home, where he crafted all sorts of weapons, including the five silverstone knives I was wearing.

  “I thought this would be right up your alley,” Darrell said.

  Owen grinned. “You know me too well.”

  Darrell grinned back at him, then turned to me. “And Gin, you’re manning the Pork Pit food truck with your friend Sophia.”

  “That’s right.”

  He nodded and checked off something else on his clipboard. “Perfect. I need to go back to the main stage to help set up for the noon show, but I’ll try to swing back around later to see how you guys are doing. Okay?”

  Owen and I both nodded, and Darrell moved off into the crowd, still clutching his clipboard.

  “Hear ye! Hear ye!” a loud voice boomed out, drawing my attention. “The Pirate Queen Celeste has arrived, along with her royal court!”

  People stepped back, and a woman strode forward. She was quite beautiful, with hazel eyes and glossy black hair that had been wound up into a crownlike braid that arched across her head. She was dressed in blood-red leather from head to toe, and the tight garments showed off her muscled body and generous curves. I might have looked like a laughable pretender in my dead-bird blouse, but Celeste truly resembled a fearsome pirate queen.