The circus was the strangest most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen. If I had to pick a Father of Pentacles from among the performers, I’d pick the magician, The Crow. He was, I don’t even know how to explain it other than to say his show was surreal. He turned in to an actual crow right before our eyes. I mean there was no box or curtain, just… poof! Man into crow. And his daughter! She must have been thirteen or fourteen, but she played with fire. And by that I mean, she seemed to shoot fire from her fingertips and throw it in flaming balls, catch, juggle, and dissolve them. How they did it and why these guys aren’t on TV is beyond me. August said that they were actually magic. Obviously, I’m in no place to doubt that, being told it by a ghost.
After the show I went to ask if I could dig for treasure. I came across the man dressed as a goat first and told him that my grandfather left a note in his will that told me to dig in their field.
“That your grandfather,” he said, pointing to where August floated nearby. I tried not stare at the place where his horns met his forehead. The makeup was uncanny. I’ve never seen anything like it.
“You can see him? I mean, no, he isn’t actually my grandfather I just thought that sounded more plausible than a ghost told me to do it.”
“No.” He turned to leave. August zoomed forward to stop him.
“Wait just a minute, my good man, that treasure’s mine and I want it.” He drove a finger into the goat man’s chest. Steam hissed and spiraled into the air at the contact. "Oh." August floated back. “Oh, my.”
The goat man laughed, deep and throaty, then he turned back to me and winked. I realized he was wearing contacts that made his eyes look like a goat’s, his black pupils a horizontal slash through the iris.
“We’re leaving. Now. Tonight,” August was clutching his finger and zipping around me like an over exited puppy. I followed him to the car. On the way back I managed to convince him to let me sleep and leave the next morning, but he wouldn’t tell me what had spooked him.
Back at the inn I drew his card, it was The Hierophant. A crow clutching a key.
“August, we have to go back there tomorrow.”
“How do you know?” he whined, floating two feet above the bed.
“It seems really obvious by the look of this card, but ok, I think the magician might be able to help you find Evelyn.” I waved it in his face. He wailed and disappeared.