The Faire (Harrow Faire #5) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,88

be free.”

Jack looked up at her for a moment before looking out at the circus. He got up as well, a little bit shakier than she was, but for different reasons. “I can leave the Faire? I can just…walk out?”

Cora nodded and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry things got screwed up. You were a good friend, Jack…you tried your hardest to do the right thing. And sometimes that’s all that matters.”

Jack hugged her. She stood there stunned for a moment before she hugged him back. “Do right by the Family, Cora. Be kind to them. Don’t…let Simon corrupt you. And don’t destroy the world, huh?”

She laughed. “I’ll try not to.”

“Sometimes that’s all that matters.” He kissed her cheek and walked away. Some twenty paces away, she saw Maggie stand up from a bench and approach Jack. Mother and son embraced. Jack’s shoulders shook, and he wiped at his face with his sleeve. Maggie patted his arm and walked up to Cora.

“Hello, Soothsayer.” Cora leaned against the doorjamb again. “A warning would have been nice.”

“Pah. I warned you plenty. You just don’t listen.” She fished in her pockets and pulled out a deck of cards. “I wanted to give you these.” She held them out.

Cora took them and furrowed her brow. They were the weird deck of tarot cards that she had seen Soothsayer use the very first night she arrived at Harrow Faire. The card on the top was number zero. The Contortionist. The little cartoon version of herself was just as she remembered it. “Why?”

“They’re yours now. That is, until you find another loser to take my place.” Maggie chuckled.

“You’re leaving, too.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Mothers should never outlive their children.” The old woman shrugged and turned from her. “You’ll do good, kid. I know you will. Keep that idiot of yours under your thumb, eh? He’s done enough mischief for one century.”

Cora chuckled and watched them leave. And she knew that would be the last time she saw either of them. With a shake of her head, she scooped up her bottle of whiskey and headed up the wood stairs to the observation deck. The sound of creaking wood and her footsteps were all that greeted her as she made her way to the top. She looked at the grotesque, monstrous statue that nearly filled the metal grate overhead. It was a perfect mirror to one that still haunted her dreams.

She reached the locked hatch in the grate. Pulling the Key out of her pocket, she pressed it into the opening. For a second, she wondered if it was going to work.

Click.

Swinging the grate open over her head, she finished the climb up the stairs to the top floor of the tower. It was empty. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. A pedestal with some kind of freakish beating heart? A purple floating crystal and some overgrown monster vultures?

She sighed. The tower itself was the Heart. She had known that. But still, the place being empty felt anticlimactic at best.

Opening the door to the exterior landing, she walked out into the chill weather and rested her arms on the railing. In a few days, it would be October. It was a beautiful night. The moon was high and full, and it cast the closed circus in ghostly white light. The rides were off, the gates were locked, and the air was silent save for the sound of late-season insects and the whisper of wind.

She shut her eyes and let herself enjoy the feeling of the air against her face and in her hair. She sensed someone next to her. Not someone—something. “You must be happy.” She didn’t bother looking over at Lazarus.

“I am. But I’m also mourning the loss of many of the Family I love. A victory that ends in death should never be celebrated.” He rubbed her back gently. “You’ve had a rough day.”

“No shit.”

“I suppose I should apologize.”

“You knew what Simon was doing. You had to. You’re everywhere.”

Lazarus cleared his throat. “He made me promise not to tell. He lectured a wall for an hour, trying to convince me not to warn you.”

She tried not to laugh at the image and failed. She sighed sadly after chuckling and shook her head. “He’s an idiot.”

“He is. But you’re right—he was testing your trust and your love. I didn’t approve. But it’s not really my place to intervene. What was it you said about him and hitting a beehive with