Hidden Moon (Nightcreature 7)

every night! Come twice, come thrice!

Bring your friends.

Tonight's show began at 9:00 p. m. After running home to change and eat dinner, I drove the familiar route to the lake.

Rows of cars spread across a medium-sized grassy area. Not a huge turnout, but not a bad one, either. If the performance was all the Gypsies had promised, the crowd would increase with each subsequent night. Everyone would make more money, and good word of mouth on the Lake Bluff Full Moon Festival would increase traffic for this year as well as the next.

A ring had been set up, surrounded by portable grandstands. The menagerie wagons curled in a semicircle, bars facing the seats so the audience could view the animals during the show. The conveyances used for living quarters had been moved halfway around the lake; I could barely see their roofs from where I stood. Twinkle lights graced the nearest trees, and spotlights illuminated both the ring and the area surrounding it.

A ticket booth stood in the center of the path that led to the performance. An elderly man sat within, while two younger men flanked either side, scowling at everyone, daring them to try to slip by without a ticket.

One was big, bulky, with thick dark hair and a fierce expression. The second had lighter hair, nearly brown as if bleached by the sun, and he was so thin and tall he hunched over as if trying to disguise his height, or perhaps his prominent Adam's apple.

A tall young woman with a white streak through her black hair galloped past carrying a bushel of apples. She handed them to a squat middle-aged man with large, curious eyes and a beaked nose who began to dip each one into a vat of caramel. Balloons bounced in the hands of children. The scent of popcorn and cotton candy filled the night.

I handed my ticket to the burly bouncer type, and he growled what might have been a thank-you, but I doubted it. Beyond him, tables had been set up for the sale of trinkets. I trailed past, glancing at the items on sale. A sign caught my eye.

AMULETS. TALISMANS. CHARMS.

Interesting.

I'd left the swastika-marred wood at home, figuring the Gypsies might be understandably testy about a Nazi symbol. Even though the war had been over for sixty-plus years, that didn't mean they should forget. No one should.

I examined everything on the table but didn't find a single item that resembled the one Grace had found nearby.

"Do you have anything in wood?" I asked.

The ancient Gypsy's face was so wrinkled and brown it resembled a dried-apple doll. Her hair was covered with a brightly colored, coin-fringed scarf, and huge hoops swung from her ears. Every finger sported a ring, and ten bangles dangled on each of her arms. Whenever she moved, a cacophony sounded.

She stared at me for so long, I wondered if she spoke English. I'd started to turn away when she reached under the table and pulled out a box. I took the offering, nearly dropping it when something moved inside.

"Uh, no thanks. " I tried to give it back; she wouldn't take it. Instead encouraging me with nods and motions to open the lid.

I did, but the container was too shallow and the night too dark for me to discern what was inside. I upended the box, and a shriveled paw fell into my hand.

I didn't shriek. Instead I said something like, "Glurg. Blah," and threw the thing away.

The old woman snatched it nimbly out of the air, cackling, and tossed it back inside.

"What was that?" I demanded.

I didn't expect her to respond. I truly didn't think she spoke English.

"A joke, dearie. Didn't you ever hear the tale of the monkey's paw? Ancient curse? Three wishes?"

I forced myself to take a deep breath, then another. My heart, which had been pounding far too fast and too loud, slowly settled. "Sounds familiar. "

"We like to give the people what they want. "

"I didn't ask for a monkey's paw!"

"What monkey's paw?"

"The one in the box!"

"This box?" She picked up the container and upended it. Nothing came out.

A spattering of laughter, then applause erupted behind me. We'd drawn a small crowd.