The Faire (Harrow Faire #5) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,85

her jaw so tight it started twitching. She ground out her words through her teeth. “I want to rip your balls off, make a meatball sub out of them, and feed them to you, Simon Waite.”

He cackled in laughter. “Oh, Cora. I hope you never lose your tongue.” He stood and walked behind her, placing her hands on her shoulders. “Turk, do pay attention, will you? This moment is all your fault, remember?”

“No. It isn’t.” Ringmaster stood from the bench, turning to face them. His face was wet with tears. He was shaking. Every time he glanced at Amanda, he grimaced in agony and had to look elsewhere. “Send her away. Please.”

“Why? Ashamed of what you’ve done? What you made? You watched as I turned her into one of my dolls. Such a coward for a man of honor!” Simon cackled.

“I am willing to sacrifice whatever is necessary to save the world from this beast.” Ringmaster stepped up onto the stage, avoiding Amanda.

“The problem is, dear boy, you made a terrible mistake.” Simon tsked behind Cora.

“And what’s that?” Ringmaster furrowed his brow.

“You and I sat down to play chess. And with your very first move…you sacrificed your queen, thinking she was only a pawn.” Simon removed his hands from her shoulders. “But you forgot the first rule of chess.” He laughed. “You never, ever sacrifice your queen without a fight.”

Cora stood from the chair.

And let her darkness take her.

The lights flickered and went out.

Ringmaster screamed.

He felt it happening.

It was like he had a cut in his arm. Or maybe it was his throat. He was trussed up like an animal for slaughter.

And his life was slowly dripping away onto the floor beneath him.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

But it wasn’t his blood. It wasn’t something that could be replaced, and his body could regenerate in time. What dripped from him was something far more valuable. Like gold in the rocks, once it was mined away, it was gone forever.

Turk was disappearing.

And it was a beast who was drinking him dry.

He had lost.

He could feel its tendrils inside of him. Worming through his mind, slipping through the corridors and cracks. And everywhere it touched, he melted and drained away. Like a spider’s venom turning its victims’ innards to liquid and drinking them dry.

Death was inevitable when one fought for good.

I tried so hard to save the world.

I tried so hard to defeat the monster.

But in the end…I failed.

Forgive me, everyone. Forgive me, Amanda.

He had lived such a long life. He could remember his first wife and his children, left behind as he went off to war. Left at home as he served the nobles who needed him. He remembered his soldiers. Remembered sending them to die, only to be decorated for having won the war.

Death was inevitable when one fought.

There was so much of him to drink, wasn’t there? He felt it pulling on him, dissolving him into sand. Sand. Sand between his fingers, in his cuts, in his wounds. Where did he get those wounds? Why had he been holding a gun?

Had he been a soldier once?

He couldn’t quite remember…it was right there on the edge of his mind. Just out of reach.

He saw a woman holding a child in her arms. He knew her. And he knew he loved her. Was that his mother?

Laughter with friends. With Family. With the people who flashed before his eyes now. Ludwig the Strongman. Donna and the rest. Even Clown had been a mentor to him. Lazarus had been a kind, but foolish, man. Lazarus had trusted him. Had looked at Turk like a son. And Turk had betrayed that trust.

Death was inevitable.

Amanda.

Her laughter. Her smile. Her hair. Her sweet kisses. Her kindness. Her love. Who was he? Nothing. No one. Nobody without her. A circus. Faces whirled past him. No one he recognized. Who was he? No one. Empty. He stood in a cavern of his mind and saw nothing but the void.

No one.

No one but Amanda.

She reached for him. Held his hand. Smiled sweetly to him.

No one but the woman he loved.

Her name was on the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t remember it. Didn’t he just know it? It didn’t matter. Because she was there.

He knew he loved her.

Death.

21

The lights in Simon’s tent flickered back on.

Ringmaster was gone.

Entirely gone.

Cora was standing there on his stage, and he watched as the shadows around her curled and moved. They were living things around her. Far more than his own reflection had ever been. They twisted and writhed,