to himself.
He was trying to play nice, after all.
“Regardless, I think Cora could use for some companionship that is not…me.” He smirked. “I would appreciate whatever assistance you wish to lend to that effect.”
“Try not to rip my arms off when I do it this time.”
“No promises.” He strolled away from her at that, grinning at her over his shoulder. “Have a fantastic day.”
He laughed as he heard her mutter “weirdo” under her breath.
That he was.
But now he was a weirdo with a plan.
Cora was a lonely thing. She had lost her life, her friends, her family…everyone. And if he wasn’t enough to convince her that murdering Ringmaster was the right choice, then perhaps ensuring she had a new Family was the next best thing.
Step one—convince Cora to murder Ringmaster and take over the Faire.
Step two—take over the Faire from Cora.
He whistled with a smile as he strolled, his mood considerably improved now that he had a path ahead in his mind. Oh, it wasn’t that he wanted to hurt Cora. Far from it. He wanted her right where she was, at his side. But she didn’t even want the burden. She didn’t want to be in charge.
It would be doing her a favor.
He laughed at his own genius.
I’m brilliant.
12
Turk ran his thumb over the side of the Key cradled in his palm. He looked up at the tower that stretched high into the sky before him. The white paint and glowing amber bulbs stood in stark and haloed contrast to the empty lack of a sky behind it.
It always struck him as interesting that there was a keen difference between the night sky and the void. Even if the night were devoid of stars, the atmosphere of the Earth gave it a sense of distance. Of a dome. Ancient cultures believed it to be that, when they were fools. And he understood why it would be easy to make that assumption. It looked far away. But it was there.
The void…was not far away.
It was not a dome.
It was right there. Pressing near. A nothingness that existed just beyond the trees and the reach of the observation tower. Amanda couldn’t stand to look at it, and he didn’t blame her.
Many of the Family had gone mad gazing into the nothingness for too long. He’d wonder if that was what had sent Simon into his fractured state, if it weren’t for the fact that the Puppeteer was broken before he arrived.
Turk sighed.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the other key he owned. This one was smaller and far more key-shaped. Unlocking the first door to the observation tower, he pulled the metal rings and parted the wooden double-doors, revealing the true gate to the tower.
It, like the Key in his palm, was ancient and metal. Every inch of it covered in carvings, images, and deadly-looking, eerie writing. He could not read it. He assumed no one could.
In the center of the door was an asymmetrical star-shaped depression. Pressing the Key into the hole, the door clicked loudly and swung open. Despite the size of the large, thick metal doors, they moved silently. Turk walked in and closed the doors behind him. First the wooden set that covered the esoteric metal doors, then those as well, just in case. He wouldn’t risk being followed.
Grasping the knife switch by the wall, he shoved against the rust to force it into the upward position. With a loud electrical pop, the lights on the interior of the tower illuminated. Edison-style bulbs burned from the posts that ran up…and down.
The tower was far more than met the eye.
Walking to the wooden railing of the landing platform just inside the door, he gazed down into the pit. The tower ran as deep as it ran high. A perfect inversion of itself. The stairs, the lights, everything was all the same…just upside down, and painted black in lieu of white.
He looked into the pit and sighed. He had only ventured down there once or twice. He disliked the inverted windows that gazed out into nothingness where there should be bedrock or dirt. Most of all, he hated what was at the bottom, even more than what he hated at the top.
But that was where he needed to go. He needed to be prepared.
Just in case.
He began the descent, the wood boards creaking under his feet as he made his way down the spiraling inverted staircase. There was no railing on the downward climb—not one that he