he was performing a magic trick. “We were impressed. I was impressed. We took him in. We made him one of us. And for many years, he was all we could ever dream of in a Family member. Compassionate. Firm. A real leader. I saw in him the chance to pass on Lazarus’s burden of being the keeper of the Faire. He was growing tired. He wanted to rest. And Murad was a natural-born leader.”
He bounced back and forth so readily between calling himself “I” and then calling him and the Faire “we” it was hard to keep track of it all. But she suspected it was all the same to him, now.
He continued after a moment when she didn’t ask any questions. “Lazarus offered to make Murad the keeper. It would transfer to him not only the Key to the Heart—the ship’s wheel, if you will—but the link that bound him to me as well. It would kill Lazarus. Drain him of his seity, and he would finally become one with the creature that had kept him alive for so very long.”
She furrowed her brow. “You gave that link to me, though.”
“Correct.” His smile was a sad one. Regretful, but resolved.
“But you didn’t give me the ‘Key to the Heart,’ or whatever the fuck it is. I don’t even want to know what that is.” She paused. “On second thought, no, I really do want to know. What is it? It’s not…an actual heart, is it?” She made a face. “I’m not carrying around a heart. Gross.”
He laughed hard. “No, no, no. It’s not a literal heart. And what it is exactly changes over time. But it’s always locked. And there’s always a Key.” He smiled at her. “The Heart is simply where the power is centralized. The Key is what unlocks it. Can you guess where the Heart is now?”
She paused and thought it over. “I would have guessed it was something in Mr. Harrow’s boxcar, but that’s not true, because…he’s not real.”
“I’m real!” He pouted. “I’m very real.”
“Why do you have a boxcar at all?” She narrowed an eye at him. “You’re everywhere the Faire is, aren’t you?”
He looked off for a long moment, then turned his attention to his hands, picking at his fingernails absentmindedly. Then she realized he—it—the goddamn Faire itself—was embarrassed. “I like to feel close. I want to be part of the Family.”
“Oh.” She paused. “Oh. You’re…trying to be more human.”
“I’m trying to survive. And in order to survive, I need to keep all of you happy. I failed in this with Turk.” He glared down at his hands. “And yes. I am filled with humanity—so much of it—and yet it doesn’t make me more human. I want to feel close to all of you. I don’t want to be your god.”
“That’s good, but not really very human of you.” She chuckled. “Most of us want to play god for others.”
“Do you?”
“No. Not at all. I saw what happened when I played The Sims. I’d be a shit god.”
“Played the what? Is that one of those ‘video games’ of yours?”
“Never mind.” She looked out at the beautiful lake. There were some ducks in it nearby, and it made her smile. “I want to go home. But I guess that’s never happening, is it?”
“I am your home. I want to be your home.” He reached out and took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I want you to be happy, Cora. I need you to be happy.”
“Is that why you set up Simon and me?”
“I didn’t intend on it happening, but I’ve encouraged it, yes.” He chuckled. “Your kind are always so surprising. I thought you might fall for Jack, or Ludwig, or even Aaron.”
She made an exaggerated gagging noise on the last one.
He laughed. “Rudy, then. He’s got a sort of…bestial allure, I guess you could say.”
“Ew. No, thanks.” She laughed with him. “I’m not a furry. Nothing against them, but not my speed.”
“What’s a furry?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Never mind.”
“Hm.” He looked off to the lake again. He still had her hand in his. “Cora. Where do you think my Heart is?”
She paused and considered his riddle. The answer was obvious. It stuck out like a sore thumb. Or rather, it stuck out as a giant white structure covered in lightbulbs. “The observation tower?”
“Correct. Clown gave Turk the Key, and Ringmaster took it happily. But then, when he was meant to take the rest of the burden, he refused. He vowed