not having wanted to listen to Simon’s screams of anger and his cries for Cora. Cora hadn’t made a sound since she had impacted the bottom. Knowing the statue of the creature that she had landed on…Ringmaster wasn’t surprised.
He wasn’t sure which was the kinder fate. They were likely matched. Just as the tower above was reflected by the tower below, Harrow Faire was nothing if not balanced. And yet, something felt wrong about the tower beneath the ground. It was rare that he ever descended the inverted stairs into the darkness. Something about the pit unsettled him.
And he had never once, ever, dared open the hatch that would lead him to the tower’s inverted observation deck.
Why would he ask to stare into the maw of hell itself? Why would he want to go closer to the heart of the creature he battled to kill?
Amanda was still crying, weeping in Jack’s arms.
Ringmaster walked to them and gently stroked her blonde hair. It had stopped raining, but all three of them were still damp. “It had to be done.”
“I—I know.” She sniffed and left Jack’s embrace for his. Ringmaster hugged her close. “But they love each other. They really do. Did you see Simon react? Do you think she knows it?”
“I can’t say. It doesn’t matter anymore. But at least they will be there together.”
Jack leaned against the wall and looked off into the Faire, his brow knitted in concern. “Are you really going to tell them all?”
Ringmaster sighed heavily. “No. Not yet, at any rate.”
“You promised her.” Jack grimaced. “You promised.”
“Don’t be naïve, Rigger. I told you the truth because I needed your help in this. And because I knew you would agree with me that this beast should be put down.” He gently nudged Amanda away from him to face the younger man. “If I were to march into the cafeteria and announce over breakfast that I imprisoned Cora and Simon not because of her scheming against me, but because she wished to save Harrow Faire? It would mean chaos. They’ll be upset enough at what I’ve done. I will let it blow over for a time before I tell them what waits for them. That we won’t Invert again.”
“You mean, wait for them to care less about Cora. She was a good—she is a good person. She didn’t deserve any of this. And the others…” He trailed off, running his hands over his hair, mussing it into sloppy, damp spikes.
“The others might agree with her.” Turk nodded. “That’s the problem, dear Jack. Many of them will side with her. And they can’t do anything to help her or to stop me. The Key only passes to another if I choose to give it or if I die. I’ll never do the former, and the only one who can do the latter is locked inside that tower. Their rage, their fear, what good will it do?”
“Are you just protecting yourself?” Jack looked up at him, his voice wavering. “Did you lock her in there, did you lie to her, are you hiding all this to save your own skin?”
Turk laughed. He didn’t mean to. But he always found it adorable when children talked before thinking. And Jack was still so very young in comparison to himself. “Jack, dear boy…if I wanted to protect myself, I would let Harrow Faire feed and continue my own life. I have reasons to live. I have a woman I love. I have friends I hold dear. I have a Family. But I do not place them, or myself, above the rest of the world.”
“Then why? Why lie?”
“Because I love them. Because it would do no good to tell the others what fate awaits them. They would fret. They would rage. Why bring them grief and anger when it will amount to nothing but their own suffering? If you had a young child, an infant, who was sick and dying, would you tell them what awaited them? Or would you let them go peacefully, without fear?”
“I—I don’t know.”
Turk reached out and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. The man flinched, as though he expected to be struck. That hurt Turk deeply, and more than he would have expected. “Jack…we have always been friends. And I am still your friend now.”
The Rigger shut his eyes. “I was Cora’s friend, too.”
Turk nodded and squeezed Jack’s shoulder gently. “I know this is difficult. I know this feels wrong. But think on how many souls will be spared