Without another thought, I switched on the lights. The faux-candle lanterns illuminated the room in a pale yellow glow, and I gasped as I stared at the table by the chair. Someone had moved my water fountain. Instead, my mirror box sat on the small table. It had been wiped clean, not a trace of mud on it, and all five figurines had been arranged—also cleaned—inside the box.
My hand flew to my mouth as I stepped closer. I studied the figurines’ arrangement. Dragon, elf, Wult, pixie, goblin.
They were arranged in order. Who would have known how to arrange them in order? Perhaps it had been Ruth. Or Dr. Hill. But would either of them have known how to arrange the figurines in their proper order? And how would they have gotten into my shop? There had to be a logical explanation for this.
I circled the table before moving closer. Something seriously messed up was going on. Assuming someone had a key to my shop—which wouldn’t be too hard to get, they just had to ask management—they still wouldn’t know how to arrange the figurines properly. No one on this planet knew how I arranged my figurines, and I could think of only a few people in Faythander who would have known.
My hands shook as I reached for the dragon statuette. Bright green magic coursed from the small object, and I hesitated before touching it. If someone had tampered with my mirror, I had to find out before I touched it.
I studied the laptop-turned-mirror case, which I’d crafted while living in Boston. I’d been working a gig in the campus computer lab and had discovered a host of computer parts that were headed to the recycler. Seeing all those parts repurposed—something old restored to something new—had given me the epiphany to create the mirror box. I’d replaced the screen with a mirror and used the gutted-out keyboard to make a velvet-lined bed for my figurines. In my mind, it had been a meld of Earth and Faythander. Plus, it got fewer stares whenever I toted it around with me.
After scanning the box and figurines, I found no foreign enchantments, so I reached for the pewter dragon. As I touched it, an electric shock jolted my body, throwing me across the room. I landed in a heap several feet away. Pain coursed through my nerve endings. The taste of iron coated my mouth as I tried to call out, but blackness clouded my vision and I felt my consciousness ebbing.
It’s cursed. How did I not feel the enchantment?
The feel of someone’s hand on my shoulder made me bolt awake. My head pounded with a deep-rooted pain that started at the base of my skull and encompassed my head. Focusing, I found a security officer kneeling over me. His hair was cropped short, and he looked to be in his mid-forties. From his rigid stance, shiny boots, and hardened gaze, he reminded me of a military officer. His badge read Officer Peter Gardener.
“You all right?” he asked.
“I—I’m…” The pounding in my skull made it impossible for me to think.
Officer Gardener helped me sit up. I stared outside and found it was dark. How long had I been out?
“We almost locked up with you in here. It’s a good thing I did one last security sweep. Do you feel well enough to make it outside?”
“I’m… Ow.” I rubbed my temples, hoping the throbbing would stop soon. “I just…” I glanced back at my mirror box. The dragon had fallen over, but other than that, it looked as I remembered. “I passed out, I think.”
The officer grabbed my elbow and helped me to my feet. The room teetered for a few seconds but then leveled out. As I walked outside, the chilly air helped my headache to clear. I pulled the gate closed and locked, unlocked, and locked it again to make sure it was secure. Turning, I walked away from my shop with the officer, inhaling deep breaths as we made our way to the gates.
An eerie stillness hung over the festival grounds. I’d never been here after nightfall, and with everyone absent and all the laughter and music gone, the place had an empty, almost spooky feel to it.
Shouts echoed from the path that branched to the right. At the bratwurst pub, a fight had broken out between several people I recognized. Mr. Kaufman, who stood nearly a head taller than Mr. Duncan, was backed into a corner as an irate Mr. Duncan yelled at the pub owner. Ruth stood near her husband, wearing the same worried expression I’d seen before. She didn’t notice as I passed. As Mr. Duncan kicked over an empty trashcan, he raised his voice and I caught a few of his words.
“…serving food not fit for an animal. I’m a hardworking citizen. I pay my taxes and shouldn’t have to…”
Officer Gardener stiffened. “He’s been at it all day. How did he even get back in here?” The man turned to me. “Would you be all right to make it out by yourself? I can radio another officer if you need help.”
“No, that’s not necessary. We’re not far from the gates. I can make it.”
“You’re sure?”
I nodded.
“All right then. But make sure you head straight for the exit. We lock up the gates at nine, and you’ll be trapped inside if you aren’t out by then. And…” he rubbed his neck in a nervous gesture, “there have been some reports of assaults from… something.”
“Something?”
“Just be careful.”
“Okay,” I answered, confused. “I will.”
Officer Gardener left me to go break up the argument, and I walked the rest of the way to the entrance gates by myself. My boots crunched over stray acorn tops. I wrapped my cloak tight around my shoulders as a chill seeped into
