The Ringmaster (Harrow Faire #4) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,1
worse. Not by much. But it was. Perhaps a hair’s breadth less miserable than the debasement he was about to undergo.
It was terrible. It was vile. It made his skin crawl and itch as if it were covered with lice. It made him want to scream in rage and throw furniture until he was surrounded by little more than kindling. He wanted to tear someone into tiny chunks and roll about in their remains like a happy dog upon a rotting carcass for making him even consider having to do this grotesque deed.
But this was necessary.
This was required.
Filling his lungs with air, he held his breath for a long moment, before letting it out in a long and undignified whine. He climbed the stairs of the boxcar in front of him. Lifting his fist, he did the single task that he despised more than any other in this world. More than anything else, this was the act he dreaded most.
He was going to ask for help.
Simon rapped upon the door. Quietly. He almost hoped he wasn’t heard. It was terribly early in the morning. The man inside was likely asleep. And drunk. Who knew when he had finally crawled into his bed? Mornings were a theoretical concept in a world with no sun, moon, or any cursed sky whatsoever, after all. Time and personal schedules were more of a suggestion than a rule in the Inversion.
If the man inside didn’t answer, Simon would be spared the embarrassment that was going to follow. Simon fought the urge to fidget and mostly succeeded.
The lights flicked on inside the boxcar.
Damn.
The door swung open a moment later, and Simon squared his shoulders. He wanted to use his height to his advantage, to look as frightening as he knew he was. The man before him was standing there in only his tight, unflattering, white underwear, blearily wiping a hand over his eyes.
“Wh—” Seeing who it was, the man froze and went rigid. “Uh.”
“Hello, Barker.” Simon tried to keep the loathing from his voice, but he knew it likely leaked through.
Aaron stared, wide-eyed, up at him. “I. Um. What…uh…”
Simon’s jaw ticked. “I need a flask of your moonshine.” He kept his voice even. Unreadable. “Strongest you have.”
That stunned the Barker back to silence. He muttered after a moment, shook his head, and took half a step back. Finally, after an agonizing series of seconds, he managed to form a word. “Why…?”
Simon wrinkled his nose. “I don’t own smelling salts. I thought of the next best thing.”
Aaron visibly processed his words then sighed. “It’s for Cora?”
“I certainly want nothing to do with your poison.”
Aaron shook his head and turned to walk back into his boxcar. Simon stayed on the man’s stairs. From what he could see, the small space was remarkably tidy. Tacky, garishly decorated, and filled with memorabilia, but tidy. The Barker came back a moment later with a flask in his hand. “She’s not waking up?”
“I wouldn’t be here if she was.” Oh, she woke up, Barker. But then I had her dive back into the darkness that’s possessed her to confirm my fears. And now I don’t know how to get her back. Like hell if he was going to explain that portion of the problem.
“This is my best shit.” Barker held out the flask to him. “And I’m doing this to help her. Not you.”
“I’m painfully aware.” Simon took the flask from him, unscrewed the cap, and sniffed the contents. He couldn’t repress the reflexive gag. He put the back of his hand to his nose for a second before quickly screwing the cap back on. “That should do the trick.”
Aaron shook his head. “What do you think happened to her?”
“I’m not yet sure.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?” Aaron narrowed an eye at him.
“Because you always think the worst of me. It’s that simple.” Simon sneered down at him. Oh, he knew precisely what Clown had done to Cora. She now shared her body with some portion of the Faire. She heard its voice and felt its power inside her. It was the touch of the Faire that had given Clown the ability to kill members of the Family. And upon giving it to her, it claimed the skull-faced man’s life.
But there were too many questions remaining.
Why did Clown have this gift to begin with?
Why did he give it to Cora?
Why was Mr. Harrow not the one in possession of such a gift?