The Ringmaster (Harrow Faire #4) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,17
might not. I hope we get to find out.”
She twirled the grass again between her fingers. “Why’re you here?”
“In a cosmic sense? Or sitting here beside you?”
“Both.”
“First…who knows. I am what I am. I do not know why I exist, no more than you do. It doesn’t trouble me. As for why I’m sitting here right now? Because I need your help, and I need you to want to help me.”
“And here I thought it was because you cared.” She grinned at him teasingly. It. Him. Whatever.
“Eh.” He shrugged, grinning back. “A happy pet is a useful pet.”
It was clearly a jab back at her, and she smiled. “Shut up, murder-circus.”
He laughed again, and she joined him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about having this…link with the Faire. But at least it wasn’t nearly as horrifying as she had expected it to be. It’s trying to be nice. I’m sure it’s plenty horrifying when it tries. “I still don’t understand what’s happening. How are we linked?”
“Someone needs to carry the burden. It was me—him—this creature you knew as Clown—” He pointed at himself, clearly confused by his own state of being. She didn’t feel so bad anymore about not being able to keep it straight. “Before you. And someone else before him. And someone else before him. He passed the torch on to you.”
“But I thought Mr. Harrow was the only one with a link to you.”
He sighed and shut his eyes. “That’s a mystery you need to solve, Cora. Something you need to discover for yourself.”
She swiveled to look at him. “Why? Why not just tell me?”
“The ‘why’ is the precise reason I am not going to tell you. If I simply explained to you the ‘what,’ you would hate me. Despise all that I am and all that I do. You would reject my plea for help. I need you to understand the why behind all these things. And I can’t do that by simply blathering everything out all at once.” He placed his hand on her cheek and smiled at her. It was the kind expression of a father, telling a child that they aren’t adult enough to watch the late-night movie.
And it annoyed her just the same.
“Oh, don’t give me that look.” He chuckled and dropped his hand to his lap. “I’ll tell you this…go ask Mr. Harrow yourself. Go knock on his boxcar door. Ask him why he isn’t the one with a link to me.”
“He won’t talk to me.”
“I think he will.”
“What happens if I don’t want to help you?”
“Then we are all going to die a slow death of attrition.” He shrugged a shoulder. “That’s your choice. This has always been your choice.”
“No. That’s a damn lie. First of all, you threatened Trent’s life if I didn’t come here. Second, you just foisted this whole…link-thing on me. I don’t remember ever being asked a question.” She pointed at him as she lectured. “Saying ‘come here or I’ll murder your best friend’ is not the same as asking somebody if they want to go out to dinner.”
“It isn’t?”
“Don’t play stupid! You’re a who-knows-how-fucking-old, evil, multi-dimensional, soul-sucking monster!” She blinked. “Oh, God, I’m arguing with a who-knows-how-fucking-old, evil, multi-dimensional, soul-sucking monster.”
“I prefer man-eating murder-circus. It’s shorter. More succinct. Easier to print on a business card.”
She shot him a withering stare.
“Sorry, sorry…yes. Fine.” He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “You didn’t have a choice in any of this. I was going to give you one when it was time to pass on my link from Clown to you. But—well—I want to live, Cora. And I need you. So…I’m sorry. It wasn’t personal.”
“That’s not f—” She stopped herself before she uttered a stupid pun she’d been trying to avoid since she had arrived at Harrow Faire. “You’re a jerk.”
“I’ll give you the chance to give it up, once all this is over.” He reached out and gently stroked his hand over her hair. “If you don’t want me to live—if you don’t want to fight this fight—I can’t make you. I do want you to be happy, Cora. I truly do. And I know it’s going to take more than a fish tank to do it.”
“Cora!”
Someone shouted through the woods. They were far away, but she knew that voice.
Clown and Cora both sighed heavily.
Simon. Here’s hoping he put on pants.
“Speak of the devil, and poof.” He gestured his hands like a cloud exploded in front of him. “He appears. Someday soon, I’ll