words and honeyed gifts. They are all lies. Remember that.”
The devil tempts me with something very different, Turk. She kept that bit quiet. Something told her that Ringmaster wouldn’t appreciate her crass humor the same way Simon did.
He looked out the window. “When we Invert this next time, we will vanish, won’t we?”
“Yeah.”
“How much time do we have left, do you know? The Faire does not speak to me. I only have my theories.” He smiled faintly. “It whispers to you now, doesn’t it?”
“A week. And…yeah.” She nodded. “It comes to me in my dreams. As Clown. But without all the face paint.”
He chuckled. “I loved that foolish old man. He was such a marvel. There was a man who was a real father to the Family. He could spin a tale like no other. I remember the first day I came here. I saw him, standing on a ramshackle stage, telling a pack of children the story of Merlin and King Arthur. They were hanging on his every word. Every damn word. I found myself drawn in, as well. I fell into his spell. He looked at me, and with that one, stupid smile, I felt as though I had found my home.”
“What brought you to the States?”
“I was a guard to one of the prince’s dignitaries. We were here to visit the new land and see what this…colony was all about. We were headed north from Boston to Montreal. I didn’t expect I would never leave again.” He shut his eyes. “But much of that is a blur. I have lost much of my memory.”
“I know your real name, Turk.”
His eyes shot open again at that. “You what?”
“He—the Faire—told it to me.”
“Will you tell it to me?” He leaned forward. “Please?”
She smiled. “It was Murad. Murad Atan.”
He blinked. His eyes creased, and he howled in laughter again. He slapped his hand on his thigh. “Oh! How wonderful. You see, I believe you…but I don’t recognize it. I thought perhaps if I found it again one day, I might know it as my own. But you might as well have told me a stranger’s name.” He sighed and smiled at her. “You see? That is what it takes from us. Not just the memory of a thing, but the truth of it. I am no more ‘Murad Atan’ than you have a favorite color. If you were to march to your mother with proof of your existence, if you were to present to your friends undoubtable facts of your time together, they would not know you. Their souls do not know you. That is the horror of this place.”
She nodded. She understood. She finished the last sip of coffee and looked down at the bits of it that remained in the cup. “Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Atan.”
“I think I will still go by Turk. Save everyone the confusion.” He stood from the chair, and she did the same. “Now, you should go before Simon gets restless and decides to make windchimes from our carcasses.”
She chuckled and shook her head. She knew he wasn’t being hyperbolic. And neither was Simon. “Thank you for not just…I don’t know. Locking me in a cage and throwing me to the bottom of the lake.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that, Cora. I hope we can end this creature together.” His voice grew serious. “It wouldn’t be the lake. I would not leave you to drown. That’s far too cruel, even for what I have planned. No. If you do not give me your vow that you will stand with me, then…I will do what I need to do, as I’ve done before.”
She had been joking with her comment. But it was clear he wasn’t. She looked at him for the first time with a real flash of fear. He was looking down at her sternly. There was not an ounce of humor in his expression.
Oh.
With another thick swallow, she tried to put the rock that had moved into her throat back into her stomach. She nodded mutely and walked from his boxcar a little too quickly.
“Goodbye, Cora. I’ll talk to you tomorrow to get your answer.”
She didn’t look back at Turk. She headed toward Elena’s tent. It was a service tent behind the big top, and she found Simon standing outside of it, glaring at his pocket watch like it was insulting him.
She threw herself into his arms. He grunted in surprise, and he chuckled, petting her hair. “Couldn’t stand to