Free Circus of The Darned by Katie Maxwell Page B

an attempt to distract Mom from the lecture—just the sight of seeing the halter I'd bought him before we leftHungary broke my heart, driving home the point that some stranger had my horse. "I don't know where he is," I said in between sobs as Mom tried to comfort me, murmuring things about it being all right. "I don't know who has him, or if he's hungry, or in pain, or being made to walk too much—you know
    he's not supposed to get anything but a little gentle exercise! He's too old for a lot of running around. He could be dead andI wouldn't… wouldn't… " I couldn't go on. It was too horrible to think about.

    "Aw, honey, I know it's hard, but you really can't believe the worst. If this Lars Laufeyiarson person wanted Tesla enough to offer you so much money for him, he's not going to be abused or
    mistreated."

    "But we can't find Lars Laufeyiarson," I said, sniffling into a couple of tissues. Yes, it was stupid to cry, but sometimes you just have to give in and have a good sobfest. "We checked all the phone books in the area. Thereare a couple up the coast, but Ben called them and they weren't the same guy."

    Mom frowned. "I thought he gave you his card? What happened to that?"

    "It disappeared."

    She gave me a look.

    "No, I'm serious, it disappeared. I put it in my bag when I got back to the trailer that night, and when I went to look last night, it was gone.Poof.Vanished into nothing."

    "Or someone took it," she said slowly, shaking her head as soon as she spoke. "No, no one would come into our trailer and touch our things. You must have lost it or misplaced it
    somewhere, honey."

    I bit my lip to keep from telling her I distinctly remembered putting it in my purse where it would be safe. Although Mom was Wiccan and had seen all sorts of strange things, she never
    believed any of them could happen to me.

    "Now, about you leaving the circle last night—"

    I sat back and let her give me the old "why it's wrong to leave a circle" lecture, glancing out of the open window when I thought I heard someone calling my name. There was no one out there
    but one of the Viking ghosts sweeping up peach debris. I nodded at the appropriate times,
    shaking my head when that was called for, looking out the window again when I could have
    sworn someone was calling me.

    "—and to think you'd been raised to honor and respect our practices. I was appalled by your abrupt—Franny, I am speaking to you. I would appreciate having your attention." Mom stopped her pacing up and down to glare at me, her hands on her hips.

    "Sorry. I thought someone was calling me," I said, hurriedly turning back toward her and putting on my "being lectured yet again" face.

    Fran , the wind whispered.

    "Honestly, Fran, I have no idea what you thought you were doing—"

    I tuned her out to listen as hard as I could for the elusive sound.

    Fran.

    Ben?

    Fran.You… help…

    "Absolutely," I said, leaping to my feet and heading for the door. "I'm so sorry about the circle, Mom. Never happen again.Promise.Gotta run now."

    "Francesca Marie Ghetti—"

    "Sorry, sorry, sorry," I yelled as I flung myself out of the trailer, running toward the center aisle of the Faire, stopping to get my bearings. Ben, where are you ?

    Woods , the answer came in kind of a gasp. My heart leaped at the sound of it—Ben was in trouble, serious trouble if he was asking for help. Part of his Mister Macho act was that he never, ever asked for help from anyone. West raced down the aisle, ignoring the shouted question from
    Soren as he tended to Bruno, past Tallulah as she took her pug for a walk, down the slope that
    led to the parking area, and into the sparse fringe of woods that ran like a spine down the center of the small island. Ben? Whereabouts are you? I don't see you .

    Here, a faint voice whispered in my head. Left .

    I spun around and ran into the woods, beating back stray branches as they slapped at my face. I figured he wouldn't be at the edge, where the