Carniepunk: Recession of the Divine
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About this ebook
Olivia Locke, formerly the Greek titan Mnemosyne, has built a nice little life for herself. She’s bound her ancient powers, has a steady job performing inspections for an insurance company, and even goes to the dentist. But when Olivia is sent to a traveling carnival, she discovers that the claims she’s reviewing aren’t accidents at all but rather symptoms of a depraved bargain struck to keep the operation afloat. And, at the heart of the carnival is a force intent on capturing her very soul. If there’s one thing that will make a retired goddess fight back, it’s the threat of imprisonment. Been there. Got the metaphorical T-shirt. Not going back.
Hillary Jacques
Hillary Jacques is an up-late, Alaska-based author of speculative fiction. She has a love of words, travel, small-plate dining, and action moves. Sometimes her husband and son allow her to play grown-up. She has worked jobs as diverse as carnival vendor and federal contractor. She is drawn to risk management occupations because she wants to make the world a safer place. Also, because she gets paid to figure out how things can be blown up. Her urban fantasy Night Runner series is published under the pen name Regan Summers.
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Carniepunk - Hillary Jacques
Recession of the Divine
Hillary Jacques
The fire had ridden up an unfinished four-by-four wooden post and melted the red rubber covering of the gaming booth. Olivia Sarkis snapped photos of all four sides, then crouched to survey the contents. The roof slumped like a gritty tongue and, in the murk beneath it, cheap, once-plush toys lay about, charred and disfigured.
Holy thunderballs, what happened to those little bastards?
a woman asked, so close that the humidity of her breath invaded Olivia’s ear.
Olivia jumped to her feet. Beside her a young woman, red hair short and spiked, stuck her thumbs into her pockets and rocked back until she achieved a gravity-defying angle. She was angular where Olivia was curved, short while the other woman loomed, and ethereal where Olivia was solid flesh. An avatar that well rendered, probably even touchable, could only be the result of centuries on the earthly plane.
Thalia,
Olivia said, her guess confirmed when the Muse’s face lit up. Her pleasure sparked an answering warmth in Olivia. Why sneak up on me like that?
Thalia raised a finger. Better question, Lady. Why allow me to sneak up on you?
I’m working.
Olivia tucked stray curls behind her ears. Mortal hair, she had long ago decided, behaved oddly. Thalia bent at the waist and peered under the covering.
I hate to tell you this, but I think those little bunnies is d-e-a-d dead.
Her eyebrows rose expectantly. Unless you wish to return them to life.
I doubt that performing mouth-to-mouth on melted snouts will raise them to the level of anything remotely resembling life.
Thalia shrugged and looked around. They stood between shuttered gaming stands, isolated from a seething crowd by a pair of thin ribbons of yellow tape. To Olivia’s left, a man on stilts swung a baton, flaming on both ends. Below, the crowd twitched, pointing like dogs, anticipating misfortune. To her right, excited murmurs followed in the wake of a scantily clad bearded lady as she sashayed near the entrance gate. Performers building excitement for the nightly shows. Only at a carnival would a burned building not draw attention.
Kimball and Son Amusements boasted the largest traveling fleet of rides in the United States, but it prided itself on traditional attractions: performers, mind readers, and weight guessers. Freaks.
Thalia scuffed the toe of her boot over the outside of a distinct circle of clean ground.
Already got it.
Olivia pointed to a barrel that had