lice went downstairs to her work room, ad in one hand and candle in the other. She chewed her lip as she gazed at the carnival advertisement. It was the standard thing — “Come See The Shriner Circus! Playing November 8th, 9th, & 10th At . . . “ She rolled her eyes. There were pictures of acrobats, clowns, and critters blazed in brilliant Technicolor all over the sheet. Alice didn’t have much interest in the Shriner Circus, but it had given her an idea.
     Carnivals were strange places. By the very act of setting up their tents, even the most flea-bitten, fly-by-night, craphole of a carnival created just a little bit of magic. Carnivals were indelibly stamped upon the minds of humans as places of magic and mystery, places of possibilities and romance. Just by setting up shop in a town, they made the line between reality and dreams a little thinner in that place.
     In short, carnivals made great doors.
     Alice reached the bottom step. She lived in a converted warehouse. Her “apartment” was made up of the five offices in the loft on the right side of the building. There was a set of industrial metal steps down from the loft, to the warehouse proper. It was an old cinder block and cement building with a lot of floor space. There were a lot of industrial shelves, on which rested a mind-boggling assortment of oddments, and a few work tables full of books and what, at first glance, might pass for chemistry sets. The rest was pretty much empty space, which she used when she needed all the hassle of a circle and pentagrams and so forth. There was also a small stone pool, and Alice used that for scrying. It was the pool she was interested in at the moment.
     She took a quick detour through the shelves, collecting a pink and purple party horn, and stopped by the rabbit cages to pull out a fat brown rabbit. Rabbits made good sacrifices because they had a certain air of innocence, didn’t eat much, and bred quickly. Also, they stank less than chickens and made a great stew. This particular rabbit crapped itself as she pulled it out of the cage, because it knew that nothing good ever came of being taken out of the cages. She gave it a good thump on the top of its head to stun it, stuffing it into the crook of her arm while the juggled the candle, ad, and horn into her hands.
     She made her way to the stone pool by candle light. She could have turned on the big halogens overhead, but her electric bill was high enough as it was, and candles worked just fine. In the shadows around her she could hear the padded footsteps of her guard – well, guard dogs, for lack of a better term. They were very quiet, and also another good reason not to turn on the lights. The dogs didn’t care for light very much.
     The pool was round, about the size of a kiddie wading pool, and two feet deep. There were two more candles around the rim, and Alice lit these, setting the third down beside them. In the uncertain light, the water in the pool looked slick and black, and showed her a reflection nearly as clear as a mirror’s. She stared at herself for a moment, tall and thin and angular, long, mud-red hair swinging around a sharp, pale face. In the reflection, her green eyes looked like dark, empty holes and her mouth like a lipless slash.
     Alice went about her work quickly. She set her stuff down, thumping the rabbit again for good measure. Next to the pool were some of her tools and potions. From that pile, she grabbed a handful of powered thyme, pitching it into the pool, followed by a handful of gravel for space. She hummed a bit under her breath as she tossed in the horn, its paper curl turning to mush in the water. She scooped up the rabbit, grabbed a knife, and slit its throat before it could even squeak. Blood poured into the pool, blacker curls in the dark water. She dropped the limp corpse next to the pool, picking up a wooden dowel rod, and stirred the mess up. Ripples spread, slapping the sides of the pool and bounding back.
     She dropped the stick, rubbed her hands together and held them out over the water, then spoke the magic words: “Okay. Show me whatcha got.”
     From the corner of her eye, she noted one of the dogs zipping into the pool of light to snap up the dead rabbit. It was fast, as usual, so all she really saw, as she concentrated on the slowly stilling ripples in the pool, was the light glistening off its bristled red hide and the flash of its huge teeth. She ignored it for the better show in the pool. In the background, the dogs growled and snarled over the rabbit, while, in the pool, small pinpricks of light were blossoming. They began to form a picture of a vast carnival at night – lights for the ferris wheel, and roller coaster that surrounded the place, and various rides inside, glowing tents, midway lights. The thin, piping sound of carousel music issued out of the pool, intertwined with bells and whistles from games, and the tinny voices of the crowd and carnival barkers. Over the entrance was a huge sign, lovingly painted, showcasing a man in a top hat, arms spread to welcome in guests, eyes twinkling, grinning a Cheshire cat’s grin. The sign read, “Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls”.
     “That’s real original.” Alice muttered. She knocked on the edge of the pool. “Alright, quit showing off. Where’s it at?”
     The image and sounds of the carnival faded, replaced by a disembodied face that looked like it belonged to a porcelain doll. The feminine face looked annoyed. “You have no appreciation for artistry.” Said the water nymph, in a voice that sounded like rushing water.
     Alice snorted. “I’m a busy woman.”
     “You’re a heartless cow.” The trapped nymph retorted, rolling her glassy eyes. “But I can give you directions. I have a cousin who works in a mirror, there.”
     “Great. Let me get some paper.” Alice stood, dusting off the knees of her jeans, and went to grab a notebook.

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