The prospect of talking to the spirits—and potentially learning something new—had Owen jittery with anticipation. Or maybe that was the lack of sleep.

"Probably both," he thought.

He had spent the first half of the night wondering about his family. He couldn't help but imagine the worst. In his mind's eye, he saw a running reel of various scenarios ranging from mild to extreme.

There was Ethan lining up toys for hours while his mom capitalized on his distracted state by doing whatever it was that she did during the day; Ethan perhaps looking up at different sounds to see if it was Owen coming through the front door.

In the next scene, Ethan had another episode where his mom tried to restrain him for once only to do it incorrectly because that was usually Owen's job, and Ethan hurt her, knocking her out cold. In the following one, Ethan again acted out, but this time his mom did nothing but cry and wait anxiously for it to stop, her lack of intervention resulting in Ethan hurting himself badly.

It culminated with a final scene where his mother relinquished custody of Ethan to a shadowy-faced social worker and simply gave up.

Owen could not really believe that his mother would do that, but exhaustion was taking advantage of brain. He wondered briefly if Ethan would understand abandonment. He had been too young when their dad left, but would he eventually realize that Owen had never come back? The image of a chubby-faced Ethan coming to the realization that Owen had left broke his heart.

To stop dwelling on his family and save his sanity, he convinced himself to plan out how to approach a spirit and what he would say.

But what did you say to something that was dead?

"Sorry you kicked the bucket; hope the afterlife is treating you well. Nice weather we're having today. By the way, do you think you could help me escape an evil sorceress?"

And how could he tell who was in league with Bebinn? Lira had made it clear that the spirits who frequented the carnival were of questionable moral fiber more often than not. If he asked the wrong person, he could find himself answering to the witch and from what he had seen and heard so far that was the last thing he wanted.

When Owen had exhausted everything that could go wrong with his plan and was still turning up blanks on potential conversation starters, he finally turned to the one thing that might put his mind at rest: wondering what Emma Thompson was doing.

Jared and Kyle had probably assumed he'd been called for Ethan when he didn't show. But would Emma wonder where he was? Probably not. She would have no way to know if he was coming not having trusted his friends to lay the ground work for him. Owen liked to hope that maybe she had at least paused and scanned the crowd for him.

He smiled at the thought of her standing on tiptoe, blonde hair shining in the light from the bonfire, a slight pout to her red lips when she saw Jared and Kyle arrive without Owen.

"If I ever get out of here, I'm going to finally ask her out," vowed Owen.

It was this though that finally carried him into sleep.

"We'll take it slow today," said Jacks. They were approaching the paddock were a few of the horses were grazing. "These aren't like regular horses. They're—"

"Magical?" ventured Owen, a tad more sardonic than he intended.

Jacks' mouth pressed into a thin line and he tapped his whip against his leg.

Owen assumed it was for this comment that Jacks started him with mucking out the stalls. Within twenty minutes his back ached and he had sweat through his t-shirt in the stuffy barn.

"What d'you know magical horse poop smells just like regular horse poop."

He was glad that he was allowed to wear shoes for the task as all of the kids around here seemed to be perpetually barefoot.

Afterwards, Jacks demonstrated how to brush the horses and take a pick to their hooves. Owen was grateful Jacks had at least picked a somewhat docile horse for him. He could only imagine what it would have been like to be stuck with the black demon of a stallion he had seen the first night. Still, Owen didn't have any clue how all this was supposed to teach him about carving and soon his mind began to wander.

He turned again to what he could possible say to a spirit that wouldn't turn out poorly for him, and it was in the middle of yet another potential conversation that he received a sharp blow to the gut.

Owen let out a grunt of pain and sat down hard in the dirt. The horse looked over its shoulder with an almost humorous glint in her eye.

"She knows you weren't paying attention," said Jacks. He was sitting on several stacked hay bales, looking down at Owen while peeling an orange. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

"I'll keep that in mind the next time I go on a date," said Owen. He winced as he got to his feet. Beneath his shirt, a dark hoof-shaped bruise was already forming below his sternum. The absurdity of what he was doing finally got to him.

"What's this got to do with carving?" he demanded.

Jacks merely shrugged. "Gentzel's orders."

Owen dusted his jeans off and picked up his tool. When he glanced over at the horse, he swore it was mocking him, brown eyes shining with amusement behind long eyelashes. He placed a hand on its hindquarters and it whickered and bobbed its head.

"So what makes them magical anyway?" Owen asked. "What makes them real?"

Jacks gave him a long, measured look as though debating what to tell him and how much. He slid the length of his whip through his calloused hands and went to the mare's head to hold her bridle.

"After Gentzel's finished carving a horse....they're animated with kelpie spirits."

The mare snorted at the name and stomped her hooves.

Owen's brow furrowed. "I don't understand. What's a kelpie?"

"It's a spiritual horse that haunts bodies of water," explained Jacks like it was the most logical thing in the world. "Once a horse is ready, Gentzel leaves to go kelpie-hunting. They're hard to tame even when you manage to catch one. And sometimes, if Gentzel doesn't make the horse strong enough, the wood cracks and the spirit escapes. Bebinn doesn't like that."

"Right..." said Owen slowly. He tried to wrap his head around the image of Gentzel wrestling a malevolent water horse into its wooden counterpart and having it spring to life. Nothing should have still surprised him about this place, but it was hard to picture.

He took a half-step away from the horse.

"So what do they do? What's the purpose of bringing them to life?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Jacks. He fished a sugar cube out of his pocket and held it out to the mare. When Owen didn't answer, he rolled his eyes. "To carry kids across the Spirit barrier."

Owen shook his head. He wasn't particularly fond of Jacks' newfound superior tone, but he let it go. "But why alive?" he pressed.

"Humans can't cross the barrier with their bodies alone—they need a spirit to carry them. Kelpies are known in the human world for tricking children on their back and drowning them. Makes them perfect for ferrying kids to Bebinn. The more horses the carousel has, the more kids Bebinn can keep."

Owen gaped at the matter of fact way Jacks explained it all. The concept was slightly horrifying, despite what he already knew about Bebinn and her penchant for collecting children.

At least now it made a little more sense why Gentzel wanted Owen familiar with the horses. He walked around to the mare's head and look again at its eyes, expecting to see a trapped spirit looking back. But all he saw was the horse albeit that extra sense of emotion he had felt when it kicked him.

Owen's stomach throbbed painfully.

"Jacks, what exactly does Bebinn do with the children?"

The look Jacks returned was grave and serious. "Dunno. Just be glad you're not one of them."

A shiver went down Owen's spine. Something was very wrong. He had been so preoccupied with getting home before that he had never really stopped to think about how Bebinn was stealing dozens of other kids away from their families. For good.

An image of Ethan being lured to this place, his mind unable to comprehend it all, and that cruel woman doing gods knew what with him, made his stomach hurt all the more. It infuriated him. It was that possibility that made up Owen's mind.

He wasn't going to just find a way home. He was going to figure out what Bebinn was up to.

________________________ 

All right, so Owen's beginning to learn how exactly things work around here---and it's not good. What did you guys think overall? Predictions for upcoming chapters? Things I can improve upon?

Throw 'em at me in the comment section. And if you enjoyed it, send a star my way too ;)

Thanks for reading!! :)