The circus was just as amazing last night as the night before. And this time, when I talked to the goat man, he introduced himself.
“Azazel,” he said. “Yes, that Azazel.”
“Huh, so the old lady at the inn was right.”
“She told you about us, and you came back anyway?” He raised an eyebrow. I hooked my thumb to where August floated, a pissy pout painting his pale face.
“I’ve had to abandon a lot of preconceived notions lately.” August turned a deep shade of red, but Azazel waved him off with a smile.
“You’re handling him better than most would. Haunts are the most challenging of pets.”
“Pets!” August roared, charging the demon. Azazel laughed as August floated harmlessly through him. I admit, I stifled a laugh. OK, unsuccessfully. That someone else could see my haunt lifted my spirits. I felt the baleful fog of August’s arrival dissolve under Azazel’s toothy grin and strange eyes.
He introduced us to the rest of the performers. All of them were demons, half-demons, or or other nature spirits of one species or another. The Crow, as it turned out, was the leader of the crew. He was kind and welcoming and seemed to wrap me in dark, but sincere charm as soon as he shook my hand. His daughter was a foul-mouthed, intelligent girl who had inherited every ounce of her father’s charm, but also oozed a threatening quality. I wondered, and wonder still, what her role with the circus really was. I sensed she was much more than a mere performer.
The Crow, as luck would have it, knew all about Evelyn. Having told him that the innkeeper had kicked us out, he gave us a trailer to sleep in and promised to tell us all about Evelyn’s life and death in the morning. We had a wonderful and raucous dinner with wine and fresh baked bread. I never laughed so much in my life. August, of course, was surly and quiet throughout, sneering at me whenever he caught me enjoying myself.
I woke this morning to complete silence. August was not in the trailer so I put on my glasses and walked out into the bright sun. And an empty field. The circus was gone. August sat in the middle of the field next to a long wooden stake with a bright red flag waving from it. I walked over to him, he looked bemused. Stuck to the wooden stick was a note. I opened it up and the Six of Wands, reversed, was taped to paper. The card was from a deck just like mine. (It turned out to be the card from my deck, which was missing when I checked.) The note said:
Dearest Writer,
I’m sorry we couldn’t stay, something urgent and unexpected called us to distant shores. If your haunt wants to find his love, he’d best look in Hell. But first, he needs to learn that that’s a victory, not a curse. I expect he'll have much pondering to do.
The post this letter is attached to marks the spot of the treasure you seek.
I eagerly await our next meeting.
Infernally Yours,
The Crow
The morning we left for Deadwater, July 3rd, I had drawn the same card for August, the reversed Six of Wands. I guess the meaning was victory all along, I just didn’t see that victory isn’t always ascension, that rising up sometimes means looking down.
I’ve been digging for three hours and just hit what we think is August’s treasure. He’s lost all care for it though. He pines and moans for Evelyn’s soul. I have a feeling that the lamentations of August will dominate my next few posts. For now though, time for a beer and a rest before I haul August’s chest out of the hole it’s in.