The Ringmaster (Harrow Faire #4) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,77

take a hard pass on that.”

“I still think the only reason any of this happened is because I have a piece of his seity. Because he Sponsored me, he feels connected to me. I don’t think it would have ever happened on its own. But…I care about him, Jack. I do. I care about him deeply. He makes me happy.”

“I’ve never seen Simon in a better mood, I’ll give you that. Do you know how much of a recluse he used to be? Just hid in his boxcar or in his tent. Never came out to dinner. Never came to see the movies. Just snarled at anyone who got too close. And anybody he ever did befriend turned out like Hernandez.” Jack puffed on his cigarette. “You’ve brought something new out of him, I think.”

“Yeah. I can’t fix him. Honestly, I don’t want to. He is what he is.”

“Do you love him, Cora?”

She paused and watched him for a moment. It was an honest question. There was no judgement in it. “I do.”

“Does he love you?”

“He can’t. Literally can’t.”

“What does that mean?”

She picked at her sleeve again. “You’ve seen his shadow, right?”

“Yeah, that freaky thing with the face. How could I miss it? I still don’t know how he does it.”

“It’s alive. It’s a part of him.” Cora knew Simon would be furious if he found out she was telling his personal secrets to Jack, of all people. But maybe the others might be more sympathetic to him if they knew a bit more of how damaged the man really was. “It’s a part of his psyche he ripped out and threw away to keep himself from going completely insane. That part is the bit that feels normal emotions.”

“Oh.” Jack blinked. “Fuck.” He looked out at the lake then back to her. “Seriously?”

“He’s a piece of work.” She chuckled.

“See, that’s the problem with this place. It takes people—fine, people who would have had shit lives—but then it does that to them.” Jack ran his hand over his hair. “I wish we weren’t here. I wish we didn’t exist. If I could just…blink this whole place out of existence, I would.”

“And us with it?”

“Yeah. What are we? What are we, really? Just a bunch of damned souls trapped in purgatory. Making more of ourselves and feeding the fire that keeps the wheel spinning.”

Well, I guess I know what side of the argument you fall on, Jack. She watched him for a moment. “Have you ever killed anybody?”

“Huh? Me?” He scratched the back of his neck. “Nah. Not really. I mean. I got into a fist fight with Juggler once. I didn’t mean to. He insulted Mom. I punched him hard enough that he fell and cracked his head open. He died, but I don’t know as that counts.”

“No.” She chuckled. “I guess it doesn’t around here.”

“Other than that? No. Never have.”

“I killed Clown. I didn’t mean to. But I did. I felt him pass through me, like I was the wire and he was electricity.” She looked down at her palms. She knew she wasn’t a danger to others. Simon had proved that. The Faire only took the people it wanted to take. But she wasn’t sure if she had a say in the matter or not.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but I still did it. And I’m out here walking around in circles asking myself if I’m a murderer now. If I’m really a killer or not.”

“Oh, Cora…” He scooted closer and pulled her into a hug. She leaned against him. He smelled kind of like shoe leather, engine grease, and soap. It wasn’t unpleasant. “No, honey. No, you’re not a murderer.”

“I’ll have to do it again, though, won’t I? The next time someone in the Family has to go, it’ll be me who has to do it.” She shut her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder. It was comforting.

“That’s not…that’s not the same. Putting someone down when it’s their time is not murder. What that was—what Clown did to Ludwig, and I guess what you did to Clown—it was mercy.”

Mercy.

Right.

Wouldn’t it be mercy to kill Ringmaster and let the Faire keep living?

I fucking hate all of this.

“Thanks, Jack.” She leaned back and smiled sadly. “You’re a good man.”

“That’s what people keep telling me. But I still wound up here, didn’t I? And if what you’re saying is true, then maybe I was gonna do something terrible, too. Who knows.” He put out his cigarette butt on the pier