The Faire (Harrow Faire #5) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,2
driver out of the proverbial vehicle that was his body. Then, she had shoved him through a woodchipper. Sure, the car was fine, and the engine was still running, but the driver was reduced to mincemeat.
And she was the one who had done it. Not Simon. She knew that if Simon had just ripped him to pieces, it probably would have been a kinder fate. Duncan had felt himself dissolve in proverbial acid, feet first. And there was nothing left of him to go on to any kind of afterlife—if there even was one. Simon’s method would have been more violent, but in the end…more merciful.
She looked down at her palms. She was soaked now, but she didn’t care. The chill wasn’t going to kill her or make her sick. And it felt cathartic.
I destroyed a man to protect someone I love.
She winced at the memory of seeing Duncan slam Emily up against the back of the midway game. He was going to hurt her. It was clear he had done it many times before.
Cora did it to stop him.
But that wasn’t entirely true, was it?
Because if that was the case, then she would have agreed to kill Ringmaster because of her love for Simon. Combing her hands through her wet hair, she sighed. There was one difference between the two scenarios. One thing that stood out as to why she would destroy Duncan but not Turk.
I destroyed Duncan because I hated him.
It was hatred that had inspired her. Not love.
It was that simple.
She walked into her tent and, flipping on the power switch, headed to the stage in the center. She had no intention of practicing, but she hadn’t known where else to go. Sitting on the edge of the stage, she lay down on her back and stared up at the blue and black stripes that converged overhead.
She had seen little Jane. Tommy. Her friends…she was almost grateful for it. To know they had all gone on okay. They don’t remember me. I’m not some loss to them. I never existed.
“It’s better that way, you know.”
Cora screamed.
She jolted up to sitting and quickly found the source of the voice. Clown. Lazarus. The Faire. Whatever. He was sitting on the stairs of the stage next to her. “For fuck’s sake, don’t do that!” She shoved his shoulder and flopped back down onto her back.
He chuckled. “Sorry.” She felt him lean casually up against her knee. At least he hadn’t worn the bizarre skull makeup since Clown had died and become part of the Faire. She also knew he was just wearing that body because it gave her something somewhat familiar to talk to.
All things considered, she appreciated talking to the Faire via the dead face of Clown. The other options were weirder. Like if he were a giant, squiggly sea monster or something like that.
“It is better,” he reiterated. “That they forget you. Do you really want people to mourn you? Miss you? Come looking for you and find out that you can’t leave?”
“No. I guess not. It’s just a hard thing to get used to—the idea that I don’t really exist.”
“You exist. Just…not as you were. But as something better.”
“Better? Or worse? I killed a man last night.” She paused. “And worse yet, I enjoyed it.” She winced. “I liked it a lot. Like…in a really fucked-up way.”
“I know.” He kissed her knee. “There’s a reason I picked you.”
“Because I get turned on by killing people?” She lifted her head to glare at him incredulously.
He laughed. “No. I picked you because you’re strong enough to carry the burden for a long time. That maybe, just maybe, you might not hate being my keeper.”
He shook his head and leaned back on his elbows, kicking his legs out in front of him and looking out at the fairgrounds and the driving rain. It was coming down harder now, pattering on the fabric roof of the tent. “I’ve always settled for the strong ones. The ones resilient enough to survive for a few hundred years. But I’ve never found one who might…not see it as a burden in the first place. I’ve never had a keeper who might want it for more than just power. That said…” He snickered. “I didn’t think you’d react that way.”
She kicked him in the shoulder. Not hard. But enough to make her point. “You’re fucked-up.”
He laughed loudly, grinning over at her. “I’ve never denied that. Not once. Well, at least you have Simon, eh?”