reflection. “Please. I have more dignity than that.”
“It isn’t a lie, though. You do love her.”
Simon rolled his eyes and began pacing up and down the aisle. “No, you putrid portion of my psyche, I do not. You know quite well I am incapable of such things.”
“You just keep saying that to protect yourself. You hide behind that excuse. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me.”
He scoffed. “Oh, yes. I’m sure you’re the expert on the subject. You exist only to annoy me.” He kept up his pacing. He needed to find a way to convince Cora that she was a monster, just like the rest of them. There had to be a way to prove it.
He just needed to come up with a plan.
And he only had a week to do it.
The issue was that it was very hard to think with the burning need to destroy. He needed to slake his bloodlust before he could sit and work on the matter with a clear head. He snarled and upended one of the benches, sending it crashing over the others.
A whispered voice came from the stage. “Father?”
Simon looked to the stage and saw his collection of dolls creeping out from the back. There was a dozen of them, each in their various stages of decay.
A slow, cruel smile spread over his face.
Everything ends in a week, one way or another. He held his arms out at his sides and slowly strolled toward the stage. “My children…my poor, sad, neglected children. I’ve hardly seen you all this time. I’ve been so busy of late. Do you forgive me?”
“Yes, Father.” One of the female dolls stepped forward. He remembered her. Natasha. She had wanted to be beautiful forever. And so, she was. But forever was such a relative term. “We forgive you.”
Simon jumped onto the stage, making the leap without breaking his stride. He had plenty of practice. He flicked his fingers wide and watched the air around him fill with his silvery, razor-sharp threads.
He grinned. “Come here, my children. I have such a wonderful story to tell you.”
Cora walked out of Elena’s tent carrying an outfit she supposed could be vaguely described as clothing. It…there wasn’t a lot of it. But at least it was stretchy. She looked down at the dark blue and white outfit and sighed.
Elena had insisted it was the perfect outfit, especially for her opening night. The Seamstress also insisted on coming by Cora’s tent a half hour before the performance to help her with her hair and makeup. The little redhead and been so excited about the idea of Cora’s debut performance that she had squealed and actually clapped her hands in pure happiness. How the hell was Cora supposed to say no to that?
So, she said yes.
And she ended up holding far less fabric than she would have liked. With a shake of her head, she headed to their cafeteria area. She had spent about an hour and a half with Elena, and it was time to go see Simon for lunch. But as she strolled in, she looked around and didn’t see him. Weird.
“Hey, Pierre,” she called out to the Juggler, who was sitting at a nearby table. “What time is it?”
The little Frenchman checked his pocket watch. “Twelve-thirty.”
“Have you seen Simon?” Maybe he had left already.
“No, I am afraid not. Perhaps he is at his tent? The Faire reopens in a few hours. He might be getting ready.” The little man smiled, his curled moustache pointing upward as he did. He looked, and sounded, so much like a caricature it was adorable. It made her smile.
“Thanks. I’ll check his tent.” She waved goodbye and headed out into the park. It was alive again. There were staff bustling around, pulling plywood off the sides of the games and the rides. She saw Jim standing on top of one of the huge mechanical rides, barking orders at a bunch of scruffy-looking people in overalls.
They aren’t real. They’re just memories. Maybe they’re made of the pieces of seity that Harrow Faire’s collected over the years. Or maybe each one of them is that creature, pretending to be human.
Pretending to be one of us.
There was something hauntingly tragic about boxcar number twenty-one. The one that belonged not to Mr. Harrow, but to Harrow Faire.
She sighed.
Can I really kill someone? Am I really capable of it? She didn’t think herself capable of a whole lot in life. She just drifted through her days,