Mort's Twisted Halloween AUDIOBOOK, Pixie Twist #0

“Quiet, you lot!” Mort’s voice cut through the hubbub of the party. He flapped his blue dragon wings to keep his fuzzy feline form gliding around the century-old carousel.

The Hippodrome was a square building, with a round carousel right in the center. In one corner stood a gift shop and restrooms. In the next corner, an old ice cream counter. The kind with malts and hand-dipped scoops. Nikki Flannigan’s awesome dessert table stood in front of the stainless steel and red vinyl stools of the ice cream shop.

Everyone ignored our resident mini dragon. Even our mayor, Beatrix Bottlegreen, with silky fake pixie wings clipped to her back, was deep in conversation with Paddy O’Milligan, president of the town’s Leprechaun Bank. Paddy wore fake plastic glasses with a big rubber nose and mustache. Leprechauns weren’t big on costumes.

“Quit your yammering!” Mort bellowed.

“For a mini dragon, he’s not very authoritative,” my father said, flittering by my ear in his three-inch pixie form.

A small fireball streaked up, whistling from the Mayor’s wand, then exploded above Mort in the carousel building. The shower of fireworks disappeared halfway down. That stilled the conversation.

 Mort glared around the room. “Ahem! Welcome to the pier’s one hundred and twenty-third Halloween party.”

There was a polite smattering of applause. Mort flapped and drifted in a circle above the horses and mythical creatures on the old carousel.

“As is my custom, I’ll be debuting a new train tonight, here in the Hippodrome’s model railroad,” Mort said. 

Hippodrome, roughly translated from Greek, meant horse racetrack. Appropriate, since the carousel had three rows of horses and mythical creatures running in a circle.

“You brought us here for a choo-choo?” Norris Neddleson, a leprechaun in fake Western attire, grabbed one of Nikki Flannigan’s spider puffball cupcakes from the dessert table and cocked his arm back to throw it at Mort. 

Nikki cleared her throat and looked down her nose at him. Norris’s cheeks went red with guilt. Instead of tossing it, he took a bite.

Mort continued his speech, ignoring Norris. “As you all are aware, I’ve been on a quest to track down one of the G'Wilcox custom models of the original line of the Pacific Coast Daylight Express. They arrived, but not in time for fresh paint and detailing. However, I am pleased to present the Daylight Express.”

“It’s nighttime now, silly dragon,” Norris yelled.

Mort ignored him and raised his remote control. He pressed a button, and the lights dimmed. A section of his railroad lit up, and the sounds of a steam engine belching its dragon-breath hiss echoed through the building. An engine, black with orange and yellow stripes the length of its body, pulled similarly attired passenger cars into view.

“Put a jack-o’-lantern on it and call it Punkin Head,” Norris called.

Mort expounded on his train. “The GS-4 class of locomotive was the epitome of the Daylight. It will look even better once I repaint it.”

The door to the Hippodrome slammed open, and lights of the railroad flickered, then died. 

Silhouetted in the doorway, the tall figure of a man carrying a blazing sword stepped into the room. In place of his head, a jack-o’-lantern with an inner fire lit the night. Its mouth twisted into a leering smile.

“Who has summoned me from beyond?” the deep voice bellowed.

Magic sparkled along the figure’s body, the spell emanating from St. Maurice’s town councilwoman, and leader of the Stellar Blues coven, Star Sinclair. She was the only one here tonight, not even attempting a costume. Star Sinclair was the walking embodiment of all things fashionable and expensive.

“It’s undead!” Star’s voice hissed into the dark. Another magic bolt shot from her wand, splitting the dark. The ray left glowing blue streaks lingering in my vision. 

Star’s ray smashed into a shield spell in front of the pumpkin-headed figure. Magic sparked, streamed, and pushed fore and back against the magic surrounding the man. His protection spell held against Star’s ray.