Carnival Souls

Keep Your Head Down

"I told you not to talk to them," Lira hissed.

What was wrong with this boy? Did he not have any sense of self-preservation?

Owen's eyes were wide, his dark pupils dilated with fear. Tendons stood out rigid in his arms and he was flexing his hand. A welt was raised along the palm where the vines had slid through his grasp.

"You didn't say something like that was going to happen," he snapped. His gaze returned to the sky, scanning for the creature's return. 

"Did I have to?" Lira asked. Her whole body was hot, like it always got when she was mad. Like she used to get when kids in school used to taunt her and play jokes on her and steal her violin. Now it scorched through her laced with a thrill of fear. Why couldn't Owen have just left well enough alone? 

Owen opened his mouth to retort, an argument clear on his face, but he said nothing. He seemed to be debating whatever it was he was going to say. All around the spirits were murmuring to each other, themselves, and pointing at the sky with fearful, stabbing gestures. Their whispers coagulated, building in tempo, rushing over Lira in an uncomfortable wind. She looked around, the hair prickling on the back of her neck. Something wasn't right. She had never seen the spirits this agitated before.

The crowd began to disperse as spirits slipped away through the carnival throwing furtive looks over their shoulders. They melted into the dense atmosphere like shadows in a brewing storm.

Lira had heard of Bebinn's Fury before, but had never seen it. The stories hadn't exaggerated the harpy-like creature that descended from the sky like some kind of demon carrion crow. She remembered asking Atlas why things that were already dead were afraid of it.

"Elemental spirits who die here and unjudged souls who become gravely injured are at risk for becoming demons," she had said solemnly before adding, "You should fear it as well. It is the same fate for you."

Lira shuddered as she recalled the look on the forest spirit's face as the great bird carried her away. She had always thought them pretty with their golden eyes and lush ivy coats, though she had never approached them. All of her experiences here had culminated into the same lesson: keep your head down and do as your told.

Owen seemed to have made whatever decision he was grappling with as he opened his mouth once more.

"There might be another way home," he said quietly.

"What?" Lira asked, not sure she had heard him. A foreboding feeling was creeping up her spine. Nearly every spirit had vanished by now. Is it coming back?

"Those forest spirits," said Owen in a rushed whisper as if he too felt something bad was about to happen. "they said something about Zabaria's Garden—that Zabaria wouldn't be happy that human were in the Spirit World."

Lira frowned in confusion. "Who's Zabaria?"

"I don't know, but we need to find her. She might be able to help us."

Lira scowled at his ignorance. "How many times do I have to tell you? We can't leave. Not that we shouldn't. Cannot. Not possible."

Owen straightened up, towering over her with an air of intimidation. "Well I'm going to find one."

"Owen." The voice sounded like a whip-crack and Lira flinched. She turned to find Bebinn standing there, a figure black a deepening crimson sky, her eyes alight with blue fire. Even from this distance, Lira could feel the anger crackling off the witch like electricity. Everything in Lira screamed to run, but she forced herself to remain immobile. Beside her, Owen squared his shoulders.

She wanted to tell him not to. Don't stand up, don't make eye contact, say you're sorry and take your punishment, but she couldn't. She could only watch as Bebinn said in a dangerously low voice, "Follow me."

Owen's gaze flickered to her briefly and whatever he saw on her face only seemed to further his resolve. He walked after Bebinn, head held high.

You idiot. Though she was fearful for him all the same.

The carnival was empty now. It was strange, unnerving in a way it never was before even with all the odd spirits wandering around. Lira shivered though she wasn't cold and there was, of course, no breeze. It was dead, dense tasteless air like it always had been. But something was different.

"What happened?" Lira jumped and turned again to see Jacks. As always, he was coiling and uncoiling his whip. She wondered if he ever noticed that he did that.

"The Fury," said Lira. "It carried off one of the spirits Owen was talking to."

Around them, the carnival lights began to sputter out one by one. As the light faded, the two were left with only the odd half-light given off by the bruised sky. Lira stepped closer to Jacks both out of fear and so she could see him better.

Jacks' brow was furrowed and he pushed his dreadlocks out of his face. "What does that mean?"

Lira understood his real question. After all, they had never been expressly forbidden from talking to the spirits. It was discouraged, but note really a rule that needed to be enforced. The spirit that had grabbed Lira hadn't been carted off like roadkill. And Atlas spoke to spirits now and again as she passed through. So why this one? Why Owen?

Lira dropped her voice. "Owen reckons that spirit knew how to get home."

Jacks' stare was disbelieving. Not even a flicker of hope illuminated his eyes.

"Did you tell him—"

"Yeah," said Lira.

"Well, I'll tell him again tomorrow. If he survives whatever Bebinn's got in mind for him," said Jacks, tossing his final words over his shoulder as he walked away.

Her apprehension returned with his departure. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was watching her, but no matter how many times she peered around, she couldn't see anyone.

Paranoid, she chided herself.

Turning on her heel, she went in search of Atlas. Because if anyone would know who Zabaria was, it would be Bebinn's messenger. 

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What punishment do you think Bebinn has in mind for Owen?