The Faire (Harrow Faire #5) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,55

should stop saying stupid things.

Simon couldn’t agree more with her silent sentiment.

For once, Barker caught the meaning in her glare and coughed. “I’ll…let you two eat.” He got up and left, shaking his head in confusion. Everyone else was too afraid to come near.

Good.

They should be.

“I need a vacation,” Cora muttered as she turned back to her food for the second time. “I need a break from all this ass-hattery.”

“Well, when you finally murder Ringmaster and we’re free of this lakeside vista in balmy New Hampshire, we can go wherever you like. North, south, east, west…you’ll be able to put a pin on the map anywhere in the world, and off we go.” He smirked. “I, naturally, will insist we go to England first.”

“Oh? England? Why’s that?”

“To burn down my old family home, of course. What a silly question.”

Cora laughed. “Nah. We’re going south to the Florida Keys. I want some time on the beach.”

“Ugh. Sunlight.” Simon stuck out his tongue. “What a waste of a trip.”

“Rudy can adopt some crocodiles and maybe a boa. It’ll be great. But after Halloween is over. I want to see what this park is like when we decide to go full horror.” She snickered. He watched as something wistful and faraway came over her. “I bet Rudy will love a chance to put his other beasts on display.”

“I’m sure.” He paused and looked around the now empty tent. “Well, you certainly caused a stir. More food for us, I suppose.”

“I bet I’ll get in trouble for letting the Faire talk to them. But at least now when I wander around talking to thin air, they’ll know I’m not entirely nuts.”

“Not entirely. That’s my job.” He twirled some of his noodles around his fork. He did enjoy a good plate of Thai food. He supposed it was in his DNA to enjoy the cuisine of other cultures more than his own. It wasn’t as good as Indian curry, but it was definitely better than whatever slop passed for native English food. If it could even be called that.

Not to say he didn’t enjoy good fish and chips.

“Simon? If we…do ever get to set foot outside the park, can we go pick apples together?”

“Why would we do that, when the Faire can just summon us up—” He broke off his words at the crestfallen slump of her shoulders. “Ah. Are you asking me out on a date, Cora dear?”

“Yeah. I am. Cider donuts, pumpkins, and fresh apples. I can make a pie.”

“Well, you never said there was pie involved! Consider it an accord.” He nudged her foot under the table. “And a date sounds lovely.”

She shook her head, likely dismissing his tone as sarcasm. It was. Or at least on the surface. But deep down, he realized…he meant it. It did sound wonderful.

It felt like a poison, warm and cloying, seeping through his veins.

He loved Cora. He wanted to protect her—to make her happy—to give her everything she could ever want, and more. He would lay down a great deal of his life to see her placed just a step higher.

And it was wrong. It bristled every nerve in his psyche. She had poisoned him like a drug. The opium was thick in his blood, whispering for him to lay down his head and give up the fight. To surrender to the bliss.

The idea of wandering through rows of apple trees, plucking the crisp fruits from the branches and laughing with her, made him happy. He wanted to kill Ringmaster so that he could savor that moment alone. He wanted to carve pumpkins with her. He wanted to tease her for her lack of skill in the art whilst he made some masterpiece beside her.

He wanted to taste the cinnamon and sugar of some fall treat upon her lips.

What have I become?

I let myself surrender to this addiction.

I want to kill Ringmaster. Not for me…but for her.

Cold, like water, ran down his spine at the realization.

Oh, no.

He had to put a stop to this.

Once and for all.

13

To say that Ringmaster was livid would be to put it lightly.

Several chairs and two wooden crates met a violent end in the alley behind the big top. He had punched a rather massive hole into a third wooden crate, and was still pacing, wondering what else he could destroy in his rampage.

Why? Because Maestro said no.

That while Maksim sympathized with Turk’s desire to rid the world of a monster, he wouldn’t subject anyone to an unwilling transformation into