Legends of Windemere

Carousel Bar Monteleone

Reporters are already waiting upstairs as Gemma and the children are led out of the basement by several police officers. The bodies of the criminals are still downstairs, the doorway quickly blocked off with tape and two large security guards. Whispers that the kidnappers were the same group of young men causing trouble in the pool during the day is spreading throughout the lobby. Rumors fly about in regards to their reasons and how they died, very few believing that a single detective could defeat them. All of the guests are being held back, except for the parents who are allowed to rush forward and claim their child. Not wanting to deal with questions and still processing what she has seen, Gemma takes advantage of the public reunions and slips into the nearest stairwell.

“Not interested in being a celebrated hero?” Dawn asks as she walks down from the upper floor. No longer wearing her pirate costume, she is dressed in an elegant gown of amber stain and a matching tiara. “Thank you for solving that so quickly. I was worried we would have a real problem on our hands. My husband says he had nothing to do with it, but how else could those men have found the abandoned play area and funhouse? I’m sure he meant well, but he’s been rather crabby.”

“I don’t have the patience for you,” Gemma replies in a tired voice. Moving further up the stairs, she finds herself blocked by the other woman’s leg. “You expect me to believe it was an abandoned funhouse? That was a place of death. Maybe the kids were too light to set off the traps or they activated when I went through the slide entrance. Either way, that place makes no sense.”

“Might not have been one of our better ideas,” the hotelier says with a shrug. Hopping onto the railing, she slides down a few steps to stand behind her playmate. “It isn’t easy keeping this place fresh and interesting. I have plans for a movie theater and maybe a horseback riding area if I buy the park across the-”

“Goodnight, Dawn,” the detective mutters before heading up the stairs. She can feel a boring stare on her back and pauses without turning around. “I’m tired and have a lot on my mind. To you this is a game, but to me it’s my job. You’re a monster who needs to be stopped. For some reason, I’m the only one in that position.”

“Do you want another riddle?”

“I never solved the last one.”

“Of course you did. I think.”

“I don’t care anymore.”

“But you need to play the game.”

Heading back down the stairs, Gemma punches Dawn in the face and is surprised to find that the woman continues smiling. She backs away as her enemy licks the blood off a split lip, the crimson liquid appearing to transform into lipstick. Fearing that a reporter will hear the scuffle and investigate, the detective puts her hands in her pockets and disappears up the shadowy stairwell. She vaguely hears fluttering wings below and glances over the railing, expecting to see a raven. Instead, Dawn remains standing where Gemma left her, the brown-haired hotelier staring forward and whispering to herself. There is no sign of a bird beyond a circle of feathers around the brown-haired woman’s bare feet. With a wide yawn, the detective heads to her room and leaves the mumbling hotelier behind.

Bran Castle

The basement hallways are so bright that Gemma staggers for most of her wandering and runs her hand along the walls to find the turns. Carnival music is playing from speakers in the ceiling, the black boxes creating thick beams of shadows that the detective can step into to give her eyes a rest. None of the doors have handles, each one with a single word on it that range from yogurt to anvils. The glint of pipes and metal panels shows through areas that have lost their blinding white paint. An electric hum can be heard from the damaged sections, which shiver whenever Gemma walks too close. The sound also emanates from red doors that are all marked as paperwork and leave crimson paint on the fingers of anyone who touches them. Sniffing at the coating, the detective picks out the aromas of cherries and blood.

Flickering lights and the creaking of a distant door gives enough of a warning that Gemma can brace herself for a cackling wind. It strikes her from behind and rattles the speakers, which briefly switch to a solitary violin playing a mournful tune. The gale becomes strong enough to shove her down the hallway, a violent whip pushing her around a corner. She is knocked off her feet and sent rolling while tiny studs grow from the floor to make it a painful journey. With the slam of an unseen door, the wind stops and Gemma skids to the edge of a pit that she would have missed if not for her foot dangling over thin air. The white sides make it impossible for her to gauge the size of the hole, so she turns back to retrace her steps. After a few feet, she slams into a mirror wall that is blocking her path.

Not wanting to alert the kidnappers, Gemma covers her mouth to curse against her hand and returns to the pit. She slides her feet to avoid falling in, the opening still difficult to see even though she knows it is there. With her injured eye itching from the strain, she puts the bandages back on and is surprised to see the hallway get darker. Slightly unnerved by the sudden change, the detective sees that the pit is only four feet across, but the other side is nothing more than a thin ledge. The gaping mouth of a slide is in the far wall, which is decorated to look like the entrance to a circus tent.

“No other way to go,” Gemma whispers as she puts her gun away. Wiping her hands until they are dry, she backs up enough to get a running start. “Leap, dive in, and slow my descent to avoid getting noticed. With the way things are going, I’d probably come launching out in the middle of the kidnappers.”

Stretching and bouncing on her toes, Gemma takes a final look around to make sure there are no other paths. Releasing a long held breath, she sprints toward the pit and leaps as close to the edge as she can. A rush of hot air hits her from below and she swears there is a churning cloud of steam at the bottom of the shaft. Before she can think any more about it, the detective plunges through the opening and hits a plastic slide. The slick tunnel prevents her from getting a grip, so she races into the depths from where she can hear the carnival music and children laughing. Flashes of gawking faces appear along the walls, each one of a man with jet black hair and tight, pale skin. Attempting to stop herself, Gemma spins and takes the rest of the slide with her back to whatever is waiting for her. To the tense woman’s surprise, she silently lands in a pit of foam shapes that is surrounded by a low, padded wall.

Shielded from view by the obstacle, Gemma carefully moves to get a look at what is an immense play area. Climbing nets, obstacle courses, ball pits, and every manner of entertainment you would find in a children’s entertainment facility can be seen. The detective hunkers down a little more when she spots zip lines of various heights, several kids happily soaring from one end to the other. A collection of trampolines in the floor makes running from one station to another fun, especially when the one of the circular spots spouts colorful bubbles. Even with the joyous atmosphere, Gemma notices that the children slip into brief moments of shivering fear. Their eyes routinely search out the nearest kidnapper, the six men dressed like pirate clowns and one out of place mime. If the kids stare for too long, the irritable criminals shout at them and brandish a blunt object to threaten them. Only the mime has a firearm, which he is repeatedly checking to make sure it is loaded and the safety is off.

Drawing her own weapon, Gemma is about to slip behind a nearby playhouse when an argument breaks out. Too far away to hear the words, she watches the mime flail and sign to the clowns. They hurry to herd the twenty children into one of the bouncy castles and use large padded blocks to create a wall in front of the entrance. Still unhappy about something, the mime continues ranting without speaking and smacks two of the clowns for laughing. Sensing that tensions are running too high, Gemma steps out of her hiding place and prepares to yell at the criminals. Her voice stops when she sees their leader point his gun at the bouncy castle, the children inside screaming and hurrying to the back. Without a second thought, the detective raises her own weapon and shoots the mime in the head. The five clowns jump back in surprise as the man utters a curse and falls onto a trampoline that launches the corpses onto one of the zip lines.

“This is the police! Surrender and nobody else will get hurt!” Gemma shouts, praying that they will listen. Clenching their blunt weapons and making squeaks with every step, the criminals spread out to rush the detective. “I don’t want to shoot any of you, but I will if you threaten me or the kids. Drop your weapons and put your hands above your head. This is your last warning!”

The clowns sprint toward Gemma, so she aims and shoots at the one who is furthest away from the bouncy castle. Her gun makes a strange click and falls apart in her hands, which causes the criminals to laugh and slow down. Not wanting to get cornered, she runs toward the climbing wall and scales it in the hopes of jumping to the top of a large playset. A pink-haired clown attempts a running swing with his bat, the polished wood skimming her exposed calves. The glancing blow makes her skin burn, but she ignores the sensation and curls her legs to draw him closer. Using only her arms, it is more difficult to climb and the criminal easily gains on her. When he gets within reach, Gemma kicks him in the face and watches him fall to the mats below. To her surprise, the padded ground pivots down to drop the man into a black pit that swallows him whole.

Leaping to the playset, the detective clambers into what is a kitchen playset and sees that a sad-faced clown is already inside. The man lifts his bat to hit her, but the chamber is so small that he hits the ceiling and drops the weapon. Kicking him in the groin and elbowing him in the face, Gemma spots a slide and shoves the criminal down. The clown sails off the far end and hits a climbing nets, which shreds him into pieces like it is made out of razors. Scrambling down the ladder, the detective vaults over another enemy and hits a trampoline that gives enough for her to land comfortably. The fat clown cautiously moves around the circle and waves for his friends to help cut off the woman’s escape. Gemma jumps over a swing aimed at her knees and is sent flying into bouncy castle by the trampoline. Behind her, she can hear the man choking and gagging as his throat is filled with sticky bubbles that become acid when they pop.

“The hell kind of play area is this?” Gemma asks as she watches a short clown crawl into the bouncy castle. Not wanting to fight with such awkward footing, she scrambles out a door in the back. “This place is insane. What is going on here?”

As if in response to her question, the inflatable house rapidly deflates and traps the clown inside its folds. The man flails and shoves in an attempt to get out, but his movements become slower and less noticeable as the seconds tick by. A hissing runs along the edge of the collapsed structure, which fuses to protect even oxygen from getting inside. What little is inside is release through the last hole that is sealed by a faint spark. His bat manages to break free right before he runs out of air and stops moving, the weapon remaining still on the ground.

The final criminal is unsure if he should continue chasing Gemma or retreat through one of the double doors on the other side of the room. Backing away from the detective, he trips over a toy train and plunges into a ball pit. With a muffled scream, his hand bursts from below and tries to grip the edge of the hole. A loud sucking sound echoes throughout the room as the man is swallowed and the plastic orbs gradually stop shifting. Staring at the ravenous ball pit, Gemma makes her way to the where the children are trapped and frees them. The entire time, she gets the sense that something is watching her and laughing at the fear growing in her chest.

Blairsden Mansion

Following the sounds of children laughing, Gemma walks down to the arcade where she finds only two teenagers making out on the air hockey table. Ignoring the oblivious couple, she walks among the games and searches for any sign that the kids have been in the room. The detective stops near the prize counter when she finds a collection of wet footprints. All of them are lined up with an alternating pattern of one pair facing the back and the next pointing at the left hand wall. Kneeling closer, Gemma sees that the two sets are connected, as if the children were looking forward and turned on their heels. Bigger prints are found every five feet, the shape oval and larger than any shoe the detective has ever seen. Judging by the positioning, she assumes that these are of the kidnappers, so she counts to find out how many criminals she is dealing with.

Taking a picture of the marks with her phone, Gemma follows them through the arcade and comes to a door of frosted glass. Glancing back, she sees that the teenagers have moved their session to the pinball machines. Uncomfortable with the lack of backup and nobody knowing where she is, the detective calls Max while opening the door. She stops when she comes to a large indoor pool, the stench of chlorine making her eyes water. There are discarded towels and empty beer cans along the benches, one of which has been tipped over. Locker room doors are on either side, each entrance adorned with used bathing suits that are held up by tacks. Most of the light comes from the glass ceiling, which shows the moon looming over the building. Three flickering lamps are in the floor of the pool, but they do nothing more than make a trio of illuminated circles in the dark water. Cold puddles on the blue tiled floor make it impossible to continue tracking the children and their kidnappers, so Gemma is forced to carefully search the area.

“Good to hear from you, Cook,” Max says with a wide yawn. The bump of his car hitting a pothole jolts him to full awareness, but he still takes a long sip of coffee. “This really isn’t a good time. Got a call from the chief that Kate Addison is in the hospital for a breakdown. Said I had to visit her now or never. Doesn’t sound right to me, but I can’t take the risk after being diverted so much. What’s going on over there?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” Gemma whispers, drawing her gun at the sight of a moving shadow. She relaxes when nothing appears, but her weapon remains out and ready to be fired at a moment’s notice. “Kids are being taken from a party. I’m not sure how or if Dawn is definitely behind it, but she certainly knows something. Tracked them to the indoor pool, but I can’t figure out where they could have gone. Probably have to check the locker rooms since the only door here is back to the arcade.”

“Well, I won’t be any help since I’m not there,” her partner points out, his voice nearly drowned out by a truck. The gentle click of his turn signal can be heard over the phone and continues for several seconds before he talks again. “The roads aren’t very pretty out here, so I need to concentrate. All I can tell you is to search everywhere. If your gut says the kids are down there then go hunting. We both know the statistics around kidnappings and time. You have an advantage since you’re there and the criminals are staying onsite. Now, I have to focus on what I’m doing or I’ll be kissing a truck grill.”

“Thanks and sorry to bother you, old man.”

“Not a problem, slightly younger woman.”

Turning around, Gemma screams and raises her weapon at the sight of a brown-haired girl in a swimsuit. The child is wearing deflated floaties, one of them yellow and the other pink with cartoon rabbits. A flood of tears pours down her face until the gun is lowered, her bawling turning into choking sobs. Shivering from cold and fear, the girl rushes forward to hug the detective and bury her face in the woman’s shirt. With a quivering arm, she points at the pool and tries to mouth words that come out as faint mutters. Unable to calm down, the child begins crying again and stomps her feet in frustration.

“I’m here to help,” Gemma whispers, crouching to come face to face with the girl. She sees a hand-shaped bruise on her arm, the size telling her that at least one kidnapper is a man. “My name is Gemma Cook and I’m a police officer. You’re safe now. Can you please tell me what happened and where the others are?”

“The bad clowns came from under the water,” the girl answers, regaining her voice and tugging Gemma toward the men’s locker room. She gives one of the towels a wide berth, her eyes widening as blood seeps through the cloth. “They swam through a tunnel from here to the big pool. When we jumped off the diving board they dragged us back here where more took us downstairs. I got away when they were beating up a little boy who wouldn’t stop crying. They were using bats. You have to hurry or the others will be killed.”

“Why would they kill their hostages?”

“They said they wanted to make Dawn look bad.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Nobody cares about missing adults, but a missing kid upsets everyone.”

“You’re suddenly very calm and smart.”

“My parents make me read the paper.”

Gemma frees her hand from the child’s surprisingly strong grip as they entire the clean locker room. Every towel is neatly folded and the nearby showers are sparkling as if they have never been used. A single locker is closed while the rest are open to reveal an aquarium portrait in the back of each one. The benches are arranged in two neat rows and are bolted to the dry, shimmering floor. Far in the corner, Gemma can see the side of a vending machine that casts a rectangle of light onto the opposite wall. She steps further into the room and hears the distant screams of children, the noise possibly coming through the pipes that run along the ceiling. A dull groan plunges the locker room into near silence, the only sound a gentle hissing coming from a shower that has been left on.

“Where do I go?” Gemma asks as she turns to the girl. She jumps back at the sight of a scarecrow, which is wearing the same clothes as the girl. “I shouldn’t be surprised about any of this. Still not sure how you’re doing this, Dawn, but I’m not going to be scared off by your tricks, magic, or whatever it is. I’m finding those kids.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Cook, but you have a message,” a male voice says over the intercom. The sound of cawing ravens erupts from the speaker above the door, the birds stopping at the sound of a clicking tongue. “If you are looking for the children then there is a right path and a wrong path. This message has been brought to you by a fan. Good luck and remember that only one of her eyes can see the truth.”

“Well, that was a little more helpful than the disappearing girl,” the detective mutters as she checks her gun. Examining the room for clues, she walks to the middle of the room and turns in a circle. “Looking for a secret entrance that anybody could find, which doesn’t really make it a secret. Right and wrong way? Well the closed locker is on my right and the riddle could be playing off the other definition of the word. Seems like something Dawn would do to mess with me.”

Stepping over the bench, Gemma opens the locker and finds that the back has been kicked in. A shadowy stairwell can be seen going to down to the beginning of a brightly lit hallway, which is adorned by a basement sign. Not wanting to be trapped, the detective gets a towel and wets it in the running shower. She threads the damp cloth between the locker door and the unit’s main body until she can hold both sides. The red-haired woman pulls with all of her strength until the polished hinges break and clatter to the ground. Leaving the door on the floor, Gemma carefully enters the stairwell and makes her way down the barely visible stairs.

“I meant my right, Ms. Cook,” the man mentions over the intercom. “Oh well. I guess the show will come to an end sooner rather than later.”

Abandoned Hotel

“Excuse me, but have you seen my son?” a woman dressed like a tavern wench asks when Gemma steps out of the hotel. With quivering hands, she holds up her phone to show a picture of a young boy in a parrot costume. “He jumped off the small diving board and then I lost track of him. Nobody saw him in the water, so I know he’s alive. Please keep a look out for him. His name is Cody.”

The detective nods and leans away from the frantic woman as she says, “I’ll watch for him and mention it to the staff. You should do the same. Maybe stand somewhere high where he can see you.”

Nodding and clutching her phone, the guest wanders off to join her husband who is talking to a lifeguard. Gemma watches the couple walk around the pool and climb up a fake volcano that is pumping steam into the air. Spotting Dawn, the detective pushes through the crowd of pirates, mermaids, skeletons, wenches, and old fashioned naval officers. She notices that many people simply put on fake eye patches and beards while doing their best pirate imitation. Stopping at a table full of beer mugs and buccaneer-themed food, Gemma watches a woman dive into the pool and come out near the stairs. A little girl tries to do an imitation off the smaller board, several people waiting to help her if she is in trouble. The crowd pushes forward and blocks her view of the pool, so she grabs a plate of food and ducks under the rope to greet her host.

Licking her lips and stretching across a cushioned deck chair, Dawn is dressed like an over-the-top Pirate Queen. A fake hook is on her right hand and she deftly uses it to get at her food, which is being held by an unmoving staff member. Her hat is gigantic with three ostrich feathers coming out of the band and a pheasant tail curled out of the back. The extravagant jacket is made from crimson velvet and gold embroidery, a silver compass dangling on a chain that is sewn into one of her pockets. Polished black boots and matching pants finish the ensemble that leaves the detective in awe. With a friendly wave of her hook, Dawn directs her guest to a skull-adorned throne and taps a live parrot on the head.

“You look like the daughter of Captain Hook and Liberace after she became obsessed with Jack Sparrow,” Gemma states when she sees the makeup and fake tattoos on the hotelier. She rubs at her own eye patch, which is nothing more than fresh bandages. “There’s a woman searching for her son. Is your security going to do anything about that?”

“They’re looking and I told her to check the lost and found later,” Dawn replies while scratching her golden eye patch with the hook. She claims a rapier that is covered in meat and pineapples, the makeshift skewer too ungainly for her to easily eat from. “Maybe this was a bad idea. Don’t want to lose my other eye. Next time, we’ll use dirks and maybe some flintlocks filled with tiny candy coins. Now, what are we going to talk about? It’s always business and threats with you. I want us to bond tonight.”

“I doubt we have enough in common for that to happen,” the detective says as she is handed her own sword. Using a cloth napkin, she pulls the first piece of beef off the blade and takes a bite. “The truth is that I already know some stuff about you. Born on Long Island and lost your father to a collapsed house. Never stood out as a child and failed to finish college. Then there was your time at Raven’s Hold and you came out as a successful entrepreneur. Honestly, the only interesting part of your life is the present.”

Swinging her legs off the table and into Gemma’s lap, the other woman repeatedly clicks her heels. “I was a boring child with problems. Now I’m an exciting adult with eccentricities. It’s not worth talking about, so maybe you’re right that we only have the game. Such a shame because I have so few friends. Some of them are even real.”

“Excuse me,” a man dressed as a pirate says as he approaches the ropes. He bows his head and wrings the hat in his hands, the small feather frayed beyond recognition. “I can’t find my daughter. Have you-”

“No! Now stop interrupting.”

“Could one of-”

“No! Now if you don’t find her by midnight then grab a woman and make a new one.”

“But-”

“Stop interrupting and go walk the plank.”

With tears in his eyes, the man drops his hat and wanders to the highest diving board. He puts out his hands for a lifeguard to bind them with rope, the restraint loose enough for him to easily break. The other guests let him climb the ladder and gather around the edge of the pool to watch him dive. It is more of a clumsy fall with flailing legs that results in a back first landing and a loud groan of sympathy from the crowd. The man’s arms spread upon impact and remain splayed even when two lifeguards fish him out of the water. Carried to the volcano, he is placed on one of the lower niches and handed a cocktail for his trouble. His eyes remain closed and he whimpers, but nobody can figure out if it is out of pain or missing his daughter.

As the party continues, Gemma scans the guests and picks out several people who appear to be searching for something. They are holding out phones or wallet pictures, their faces etched with stress and sorrow. Whenever one of them talks to a hotel employee, they are escorted to the volcano, which is glowing to give the illusion of spewing lava. Turning back to Dawn, she notices the brief flicker of a smirk on the other woman’s face. Placing her food on the table, Gemma opens her mouth to speak when the parrot begins cawing like a raven. The animal only stops when one of the female staff members holds out a pomegranate that has already been sliced open.

“You’re going to ask me what I did,” Dawn moans as she draws a flintlock pistol. Aiming the weapon at her mouth, she fires a jet of orange juice that makes her gag. “That was a terrible idea. Just like asking me that question. First of all, you can see what’s going on. No reason to ask for me to spell things out for you. That’s all I have. So I guess I didn’t have to say first of all. I probably forgot the other points.”

“Never thought you would target children,” Gemma growls, fighting the temptation to put a bullet in Dawn’s head. Tearing her bandages off, she reveals her injured eye, which makes several people look away. “This is going too far. Either bring them back now or tell me where I can find them.”

“As usual, you think me a monster when I’m merely a playful imp,” the hotelier states while cleaning her face. The click of the detective’s gun and feel of metal against her forehead makes her giggle, a burst of madness in her eye. “Unbalanced cop kills beloved businesswoman? Crazy officer murders innocent pillar of the community? I’m sure the headlines would be hilarious if you pull that trigger. None of them will mention saving the lost children. You might even be blamed for them being found too late.”

“Where did you put them?”

“Nowhere.”

“I’m done playing your game.”

The lights dim and a thick darkness consumes the edge of the pool as Dawn hisses, “The game ends when my husband and I say it is. The children were taken by someone else. How about you do your job and look for them? Not like anybody could get very far with so many kids to carry. I release you from your celebration to be a hero. Dig deep into this mystery and make the bad guys pay. Preferably in large denominations because banks don’t take blood and body parts.”

Her ears filled with the sound of her own heartbeat, Gemma lets her thumb run along the hammer of her gun. With a mumbled curse, she puts the weapon away and storms out of the roped off area. The crowd seems to shift and move to create a winding path that leads the detective to the door. Staring through the door, she can see that only the two people manning the front desk are inside. Blinking her injured eye to see if things improve, Gemma takes a cleansing breath and steps into the surprisingly frigid lobby. She jumps at the sound of the door locking behind her, the party on the other side hard to see in the tinted glass.

“I’m not letting you win this round, Dawn.”