those cyan eyes that it stole her breath for a moment. “You were pretty upset. Do you feel better now?”
“I do.”
“Good.” He stroked her hair. “Then I’m happy. No tag-team required.”
He looked happy. Not his usual manic joy, either, but real, honest contentment. She let her eyes drift shut as she basked in the tender moment. “Simon?”
“Hm?”
“What should I do?”
He let out a puff of air. It was half a sigh and half a grunt. “I’m not sure I can give you an answer. I know what I would do, but that doesn’t matter. You have to decide for yourself.”
That was the difference between waking Simon and the rest of his damaged psyche. The Puppeteer had no problem telling her she needed to kill Ringmaster. His equally broken and murderous but gentler half wanted to let her choose. “You’d kill him, wouldn’t you?”
“I would. I would do it in a heartbeat. But I would do it because I love you, Cora. I would do it to protect you. Because I would never let anything hurt you. Even if it was the very last thing I ever did.”
That felt like a knife to the gut. “I guess I’m a terrible person, huh?”
“Why?”
“Because I claim to love you and your other half, but I can’t say the same. I can’t agree to kill Ringmaster to protect you both.” She cringed. She opened her eyes to look at him and the blue sky overhead. “Am I lying to myself?”
“About which, how you feel about me? Us?” Simon tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment. “No. I don’t think you are. I think you’re just willing to sacrifice yourself for the good of the world. I’m not. I don’t care about anyone else. Just you.” He smiled down at her tenderly and stroked her hair again. “We just have different priorities.”
“I guess.” She still felt like garbage.
“What’s this about a tag-team?”
Simon and Cora yelped in unison. That hadn’t been either of them who had spoken. Simon whirled, and Cora fell out of his lap, scrambling up to her knees.
It was Clown. Or Lazarus. Or the Faire. Or whatever. He was sitting there on the edge of the fountain, smiling at them. “I’m joking. No offense. I’m sure it’d be grand and all, but I never really quite understood the appeal of sex. You all seem to love it, though, so I’m sure it’s fun.” He shrugged.
Simon scrambled to his feet, and Cora followed him. He stood between them, protecting her. “Don’t you—”
“Do what?” Clown rolled his eyes. “Calm down. I don’t want to hurt her. Why would I? I need her.”
“Because she doesn’t want to kill Ringmaster.” Simon kept his arm out to keep her behind him.
“Not yet. I haven’t given up hope. Hello, Cora. How’re you?”
“I’m…fine, thanks.” She gently put her hand on Simon’s shoulder and moved to stand beside him. There was no point in hiding from the Faire. It was everywhere. It was part of them. Or they were part of it.
“This is lovely.” Clown looked around the yard curiously, peering up at the statue in the center of the fountain. He twisted around to examine the large estate that dominated the expanse of grass and hedges. “Is this where you grew up, Simon?”
“It is.”
“Looks expensive.” Clown whistled. “I knew you came from money, but that’s something else entirely.” He twisted back to look at them and patted the lip of the fountain next to him. “Come on, you two, sit. Let’s talk.”
Cora sat down first, leading Simon by the hand. She took the spot next to Clown. Simon sat close to her other side, clutching her hand tightly. The broken half of the Puppeteer was tense, his posture rigid, and was staring at Clown with wide-eyed anxiety. As if Clown were going to peel her face off at any point in time.
Maybe he would.
It was hard to tell when one was dealing with an ancient demigod monster.
“I still don’t know,” she started. “I don’t. Ringmaster’s…not wrong. Not entirely. What you are—what we are—we’re dangerous.”
“There are far more dangerous things in this world that were made by man.” Clown looked at the sky and smiled, as if enjoying the simple presence of the blue light overhead. He probably was. “Pollution. War. I would argue that most governments are more harmful to the people they claim to protect than I am. I don’t feed on people’s suffering. I don’t torture you, or those I take from. I only want to survive. I