Daisy's Bite

The moon over Eldemere Hollows was large and bright on this soft, summer night. The stars blinked their luminescence in the velvety black canvas, like a thousand mystical eyes. A soft east-west wind blew over the English countryside, carrying on it the redolence of honeysuckle and lilac.

On a plateau in the vale, a carnival tent moaned in the breeze. Beside it, several horses were fast asleep, tied to a wooden post. A dozen or so wagons circled a snuffed out fire pit nearby. Inside the wagons and tent, members of Victor Lovelle’s One of Kind Oddities lay asleep, after another day of curious customers, and a long night of drinking by the fire.

Rabid, terrifying barks shattered the quiet.

“Ahhh, mercy! Mercy!” a voice bawled. "Mercy!"

Jim snapped awake. The massive bigfoot kicked over the bottle of his hooch, and instinctively tugged on the chain holding the hound. His giant hands trembled against the chain, as he struggled to balance the strength of the dog, against the strain of lifting himself off of the bails of hay, on which he was asleep.

“Down girl! Daisy, down!” he barked. Jim teetered his massive body upright, and yanked on the chain again.

The boy, no older than fifteen, shuffled backwards on his elbows and arse, his tweed knickers tattered at the knee. He was desperate to find a safe place away from the immense, crazed hound. Daisy was glowing a bright red in the tent’s dim torch light, a hue that deepened with every bark. She leaned over the boy on muscular hind legs, tugging on the chain wrapped around her neck. The heat emanating from her sent goosebumps across the boy’s skin. The lad passed out.

“Lord!” a voice screamed from the rear of the big top.

“What is going on??” shouted another.

“Down, Daisy!” Jim barked again, pulling on Daisy's restraints. Members of the carnival trickled into the tent’s foyer, eye's wide and half in shock. Daisy was pacing in wide circles now, her fervor dying down, along with her crimson shine, which was fading into a pink sheen.

Victor, the proprietor of Victor Lovelle’s One of Kind Oddities, strode in from his wagon and into the entrance way with fuzzy slippers flapping on his feet. The gnome’s salt-and-pepper hair was a tussled mess. Though he stood little more than two and half feet tall, he was an absolute terror when he didn’t get his sleep. He closed his silk robe at his waist and snapped his fingers at Daisy.

“Down!” he commanded.

The Hell Hound whimpered, curled herself up into a ball and rested her head on crossed paws. Smoke twirled from a tuft of hair on her head as she sighed.

“What in the devil is going on in here?” Victor said, holding a light on a line above him. The room grew in brightness as he walked to the center of the entrance way. “Jim," he demanded. The Sasquatch lifted guilt-laden eyes at him. "I asked you a ques– Crikey!” Victor jumped back. “What is that??”

Jim's eyes shifted back and forth. His mind raced for answers. None made themselves available.

“It’s a boy,” someone chirped from the edge of the crowd.

A shower of shushes hailed down on the analyst of the obvious. “Shush, you,” Lillith added. The old gryphon quivered her wings in scorn. She often needed to have the last word.

Victor fashioned his gaze on Jim. A silence bloomed between the pair.

“I don’t know.” Jim said finally, shrugging his colossal Bigfoot shoulders. He pushed his mane from his eyes. “I must've fallen asleep, and the boy snuck in.”

“Huh…” Gerome muttered, in the “is that so?” fashion. He shuffled his emaciated body through the crowd. When he reached the bails of hay, Gerome bent down with a moan, and retrieved the bottle that lay on the floor. He held it with bony fingers and pulled it up to what was left of a decrepit nose. He sniffed. “More like you passed out and the boy waltzed in,” he said.

“Go eat brains,” Jim said.

Gerome returned the barb with some sharp quip or other, but the insult was lost in the tumultuous din that erupted.

This wasn’t the first time a curious young soul had come close to finding the group asleep and vulnerable in their wagons. The public's uncertainty around the veracity of these 'oddities' kept them safe from prejudice and wanton hostility. It was a secret best kept. Their most effective night guard, Tessa, a Siren from the Tennessee countryside, had fallen ill after a long night of Fuddling Cups (where gin shots the size of fists went to the loser of each round), and she was in her wagon recovering. The Southern Siren seduced souls, commanding them from within, and often lead snoopers easily into a nearby wood. To boot, she’d often convince them that they'd experienced a fantastical dream, leading many to dismiss any memories of the incident they might have in the morning, keeping the community safe from waves of further probing.

But when Tessa's elegant protection was unavailable, the next best option was that of brute force, which meant Jim. The sasquatch was the largest and most intimidating member of the group. Unfortunately, his powers of intimidation were second only to his powerless over his father’s wild-berry and lavender hooch, especially when he was bored. The result was often a frustrating and an inconsistent round of policing on his part.

This was hackneyed context in which the group found themselves bickering. Again.

In the center of the quarreling throng, a bone horn pulsed a bright white light. The brilliance lit up the area, casting stark shadows across the tent walls. Everyone from ogres to centaurs, werewolves to leprechauns, shielded their eyes from the brightness; and the cacophony that had dominated the tent a moment ago, dulled into a simmer, then dissipated thoroughly into silence. All eyes were on Milly.

The white unicorn paced slowly to the edge of the crowd, her gaze fixed on the boy.

Lost in their squabbling, many in the group had forgotten about him, ironically. The members of the troop, with interest re-piqued, turned to him, one by one -- a wave of eyes sliding slowly in their sockets.

The boy's eyes were wide and quivering. He lay face-up, propped up on elbows, his own gaze drifting slowly, tensely over the crowd.

“You alright, son?” Victor asked, stepping closer to the boy.

He leaned away from the gnome, inhaling a shaky breath. “You’re all bloody real??”

“D’you really think it was smoke n' mirrors, boy?” Mike the Centaur said, gesturing to his mash-up of a body.

"Shush!" Lillith admonished.

The boy’s head bounced off the floor as he passed out again.

The cacophony reignited.

Milly bucked and flailed her head. The unicorn neighed as loudly as she could, but she could muster little to mitigated the squabbling. Victor screamed for order, but his efforts were lost in the tumult too. Wilhelm, an ogre Victor had saved from a terrible and cruel carnival in Kiev -- one so cruel that the abuse left the creature with a damaged voice box, brought his enormous hands together, again and again. The series of claps, had many in the group holding their ears, and, before long, all offered up their rapt attention.

"The boy's leg," he signed in the hushed room. "Something's wrong."

A bleeding wound was visible through his torn pant leg.

Lillith held a paw over her mouth in shock.

“Alright, now. Someone have a look at that wound,” Milly said. "There's no time to waste."

"Akiko." Lillith said, snapping her head back and forth, searching for the spirit through the crowd. Akiko glided forward past Lilith and whisked down to the boy’s side. The spirit hovered over him like morning fog on a country hillside, the edges of her ethereal body glittering and pulsing with light. Her last master in Okinawa, one of many terrible souls who had imprisoned her, kept her in a hexed vase by his bedside. He only ever let her out to curse an enemy or poison a political rival. For centuries, she'd yearned to be of use in something helpful, positive. With this group, she'd found her new home.

She whispered to the boy, then ran a pale hand tenderly across his forehead. The boy mumbled back, eyes closed. He smiled. Then his face slipped back into expressionlessness again. Akiko placed one hand on the bite, and with the other, she reached into the boy’s chest, her hand disappearing beyond the boundary of his skin, and onto his heart. She breathed. She listened.

After a few moments, she turned to the magical mare. “Akuma wa sugu ni kare o toraerudarou,” she said.

Milly nickered, as a solemn pall descended over her features. “We all know what Daisy’s bite can do, especially when she’s… worked up. Although inadvertent, it seems this bite was deep... Deep enough to summon Beelzebub. He will come for the boy by morning.”

A collective gasp resounded in the room.

Victor glared at Daisy. “Bad dog. Bad dog.” Daisy whined and hid her head under her paws.

“There’s no time for that,” Milly chided, stomping a hoof on the floor. “Wilhelm, Jim, Ariadne, you stay with us. The rest of you please give us room to work.”

The community looked at one another, but no one moved.

“Back to your beds, now. Go on,” Milly said, swinging her head and stepping towards the group.

Nothing.

Victor moved towards them, his arms wide. “Everyone, please."

“We’re not leaving," Lillith said, whisking a nervous tail behind her. "We can’t let Beelzebub take that boy. Not when we can help."

"Yea," Cerce, the tiny fairy, said.

"Yea," Lillith echoed, in true form.

Lillith held out a paw, summoning the group to gather around the boy. With the members hand-in-hand, the gryphon growled a low rumble, shaking the tent poles around them. Before long, the growl rose in pitch, then began twisting and moving, until it became a sweet melody. The sound moved straight to Milly's heart. Soon, the group joined Lillith and sang Elaru's Hymn, the ancient song and prayer to the Earth Mother.

Milly neighed, releasing the chills that the beautiful melody produced in her, then returned her attention to the boy. She nodded to Akiko, who'd never left the boy's side. At Milly's request, Akiko moved to the mare, and placed both hands on the unicorn's neck, passing information along regarding the boy and his health.

Internal sounds and visual impressions filled the mare. When Akiko was done, Milly thanked her, then turned to the three she'd asked to stay and help.

"Wilhelm, I'm sure you're familiar with vervain from your time in the Balkans, yes? Good. You and Ariadne search the wood for it. Find as much as you can. If we dig up enough, and we work quickly, we may be able to save the boy."

Wilhelm took the line that Victor had been holding. On the other end, up above, the diminutive Ariadne, who had been the light source in the room, fluttered her wings. The fairy doubled her luminosity engulfing the tent in light. Then in a flash, the pair whisked through the mouth of the tent and out into the night.

Under the dimness of tent torches, the sound of the prayers continued bathing the boy in spiritual light. Milly strode from the boy's side and out of the tent. She gazed up at the stars. She knew.

"They must hurry."

*****

A wispy strip of purple light caressed the space between the horizon and the night sky, signaling the return of the sun. The troop members were scattered around the tent foyer, asleep or resting their exhausted bodies.

"Mōsugu hinodedesu," Akiko said, hovering by the entrance.

"I know," Milly responded. The mare lay next to the boy, who was sound asleep. The venom was making its way deeper into his tissue. "In a few minutes it will be morning proper."

"Kare ga kitara watashitachi wa nani o suru nodeshou ka?"

"I don't know. Let's hope they make it in time and we don't have to deal with Him at all."

"Mienai," Aikiko said, gliding down to the boy.

Milly stared out the valley. "I don't see them either. But Ariadne will make sure--"

A burst of light engulfed the tent. The accompanying gust of wind blew Milly's mane back from her face. The other members of the troop, sat up, shielding their eyes.

Wilhelm appeared in the center of the space with Ariadne at his shoulder. Stardust glittered and sprinkled down around the pair. He stared at Ariadne, wide-eyed.

"Don't ask, love," she said. "It's just one of the many things we fairies can do."

"You're back!" Lillith exclaimed. She roared and threw her paws around Wilhelm.

"And not a second too soon," Milly said. "Let's everyone grab some vervain."

Hands, claws and tentacles alike helped slip the bag from Wilhelm's shoulder and removed the vervain from it.

"Cover him, quickly," Milly urged.

The group moved as one, blanketing the boy with the purple plant. Jim, Wilhelm and Lillith slipped through the entrance to keep watch by the mouth of the bigtop. When every inch of the boy but his face was hidden beneath the foliage, the group stepped aside, and allowed Milly and Aikiko to come forward.

The two gazed at each other. Milly gave Aikiko a look of assurance. "We can do this," she said.

Aikiko nodded and they both closed their eyes. Aikiko started first: she chanted the opening lines to one of the oldest prayers left on earth, The Irielle, a healing chant that survived from The Time Before Time. It's sweet and ancient melody sent chills of awe through the group. The melody spoke to the most ancient parts of each of them, the parts tied to the very heart of Earth herself.

Milly drank the tune into her being, then followed her friend in song. The rest of the group joined in and watched as Milly passed her gleaming horn across the boy from sole to scalp then back down again. The flowers began shaking along the boy's body, and, before long, their violet vibrance faded. As it did, a natural rosiness eased back into the boy's face.

The troop continued chanting in the world's oldest tongue, and Milly continued waving her bright horn across him until the boy's cheeks were fully flush with color again. The vervain withered to dust.

"Look!" someone said.

They boy moaned and coughed.

"The lad's coming back!" another said.

Milly stepped back awkwardly.

"Milly?" Lillith said.

The unicorn whinnied before collapsing beside the boy.

"No!" Victor screamed. He scurried and fell to his knees by her side. "Please, no." He wrapped his arms around his old friend's muzzle. His face was red, contorted with pain. Tears fell from his eyes.

"Her horn!" Ariadne gasped. It no longer shined. It was murky and grey. Smoke spiraled from its tip.

Aikiko swooped and placed her hands on Milly's neck. She read Milly's body. It spoke to her: the venom had collected in Milly's horn and was now coursing through her body. Aikiko scooped handfuls of the murkiness from Milly's spiral, bone antler. She sped through the tent entrance leaving a trail of blinking lights in her wake. She whispered into the black energy in her hands as she flew, and when she was far enough, she thrust the darkness into the air, where it transmuted into a swarm of flies. The insects buzzed and zig-zagged haphazardly, flying everywhere but straight, until they disappeared into the wood.

Ariadne streaked out of the tent behind her, praying into the dark energy she had gathered from Milly's horn. She flew towards the hilltops of the vale and released the heaviness into the air, where her prayers transmuted it into a flock of crows. The birds cawed and cried, then twisted their way up over the crest of the valley.

Ariadne buzzed back to Aikiko. She was worn from handling the energy. They looked in each other's eyes. They saw what neither wanted to admit. Putting it out of mind as best they could, they raced back into the tent along with the other members who had been standing guard.

The troop was huddled around Milly. Daisy whined over her, licking her face.

"Milly," Victor said, still holding her. "Please say you're ok, dear. Please."

Milly whinnied and kicked a listless leg. "I'll be fine." A light film of blood covered her teeth. "Did we make it?? How's -- how's the boy?"

The group turned to him.

The boy lay on his back, propped up on elbows. His eyes were wide and quivering.

"Ms. Milly, I -- I saw you," he said with a trembling voice. "In my dream. I saw what you did for me. I didn't believe in Dark Minions before, nor in Angels, Angels like you... But now...." he paused. "Thank you."

The boy gazed at the group. "You're all... amazing..." He held Victor's face in one hand. "I can't believe you're real."

A young woman with caramel skin shuffled through the crowd. The smell of gin was still ripe on her lips. Tessa the Siren stood over the boy.

"Truer words have never been spoken," she said.

She touched a finger to the boy's forehead.