about. I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”
“Sure. That sounds nice.” She smiled. She didn’t know if they were like Simon’s puppets—broken things that were slowly being eaten alive—but she knew that even if the motives were wrong, his insistence that she needed to make friends and feel part of the Family was a valid one. “I should probably rehearse today. I haven’t in a while. But once I’m done, I’d love to come by.”
“Swing by anytime. I’m usually there.” The large, tattooed, bearded woman actually looked…excited at the idea of having company. Like she might actually want to be Cora’s friend.
It wasn’t a thing Cora was used to. It was a nice feeling.
“I—”
FOOOM.
The table rocked with the vibration of an explosion. Fire roared over the level of the tents from somewhere in the direction of the boxcars.
Cora sat stunned, wide-eyed.
Everyone else laughed.
And Cora gave up and joined in.
Cora stood on her tiered stage with the spiral in the center of it. It had been a few days since she’d practiced. She had been a bit busy.
What with Clown shoving a piece of the Faire inside me, and me learning I need to commit murder to survive. And endorse the man-eating murder-circus at the same time.
Been a bit distracted.
But it felt good to be there. There was something natural, something freeing, about being on those hand-balance canes and contorting herself into weird positions. It felt like stretching a tight muscle after sitting for too long.
She didn’t know why, but it also triggered something in her. Something that wasn’t quite joy or happiness. But it was close.
The only thing I’ve ever been skilled at in my life was photojournalism, and it was taken away from me by my illness. It feels good to be good at something.
And it gave her time to think, oddly enough. Twisting into the weird shapes was a bizarre kind of meditation. Simon was off doing his own thing for a while. He seemed to want to give her some space. Either because he really wanted her to feel at home, or because he was devising a way to steal her connection to the Faire and kill her in the process.
Like all things with him, I’m guessing it’s both.
When she twisted around the other way, she realized suddenly that someone was standing there beside her. She screamed and fell over, toppling painfully to the ground. She groaned as she impacted the wood surface.
“Simon, I swear to fuck that I’m gonna—” She lifted her head.
It wasn’t Simon.
It was Rudy.
She froze. The man was wearing a pair of dark brown trousers and nothing else. He was barefoot and bare-chested. His red, scruffy hair hung over his face. Simon’s hair was long on purpose. She suspected this man’s hair was long from neglect. She had never seen him up close before. Rudy seemed to want to keep his distance. Yellow eyes shone in the light of the tent, flashing like a wolf in the darkness.
She froze for a moment in fear.
Then she glared. “Rudy. Fuck you. Don’t scare me like that.” She stood, refusing to let the man intimidate her, even if he was staring at her with all the expression of a rock and yet at the same time with all the hunger of the wolf his eyes resembled.
Silence. He just stared at her.
She squared her shoulders in defiance. She couldn’t hurt him. She probably couldn’t even hit him. Something told her that if she decked him with one of the handstand canes, he’d take it considerably shittier than Simon would.
Maybe he’d rip her to pieces and eat her. Maybe he’d throw her down and try to rape her. She’d fight him tooth and nail either way. She’d lose, but she’d fight.
He sniffed once. “You smell like him.” His voice was terse, short, and rough, like he didn’t use it much.
Cora rolled her eyes. “Of course I smell like Simon. We’re fucking, in case you haven’t gotten the memo.”
“No.” He wrinkled his nose. “You smell like Clown.”
“I wasn’t fucking Clown, if that’s what you’re implying.”
That made him laugh. It was an unexpected sound. It might have been more of a chuckle, honestly. He scratched at his stubble with nails that were pitch black, and just a little too long and a little too sharp looking. The wheels visibly turned in his head as he watched her. Then with another dismissive sniff, he turned toward the exit. “Come with me.”
“Are you going to eat me?”
He paused and glanced over his