trying to swallow down her pain and her depression. And now that both of those things were gone, what was left? Who was she? Who was she supposed to be?
She honestly didn’t know.
She tucked the sad-excuse-for-clothes under her arm as she made her way toward Simon’s tent.
Who am I?
She was a little afraid to find out. She felt like she was standing in front of that trick reflection in the Hall of Mirrors again, looking into her soul. It had shown her someone happy. Someone graceful, beautiful…and covered in blood.
Is that who I really am, deep down?
What if I don’t want to be?
In a week it wouldn’t matter. If she decided not to accept the vision the Faire had shown her—wait. How long ago was it? She laughed as she realized it had only been a few weeks. It felt like years. It felt like centuries. To be fair, a lot had happened in a very small amount of time.
If she refused to accept what the Faire showed her, or ignored the matter entirely, she wouldn’t exist anymore. No one in the Family would. It would all simply…blink away into nothing. She hadn’t exactly been a spiritual person, and the thought of disappearing into the void to never exist again was a little frightening. But considering all the things she had to come to terms with lately, it wasn’t the worst.
Who am I?
Who am I supposed to become?
The answer to that question was the root of her problem.
She walked through the front flaps of the red and black striped tent that loudly advertised the puppet show within. She had once found it horrifying. It had once haunted her dreams. Now…it would make her smile, if she weren’t in such a rotten mood.
“Simon?” she called as she stepped inside. The sudden switch from sunlight to the dim lightbulbs left her momentarily blind.
“Here.”
It sounded like he was near the stage. She kept walking down the aisle, blinking to let her eyes adjust. “You missed lunch.”
“Did I? I fear I lost track of time…”
Uh oh. He had a strange tone to his voice. Gravelly and low. When she could see, she gasped and paused.
He was on the stage. Lying there on his back. Surrounded by bits and pieces of people. For a second, she thought he had made good on his threat and torn apart hapless victims from the Family. A span of a heartbeat later, and she realized there was no blood. The limbs and torsos and faces were painted pieces of wood, porcelain, and metal.
His puppets.
His dolls.
They were strewn about like discarded children’s toys, limbs akimbo and scattered, and left wherever they landed.
Simon was among them, his head resting on the torso of what looked like had once been a man. He had his hands folded over his chest, and he was looking up at the ceiling. His sunglasses were off, and his eyes were shut. He looked peaceful…but she knew better.
She fidgeted with a piece of the costume under her arm. “Were you having a moment?”
“Mmhm.”
“Are you better now?”
“Mmhm.”
“You killed them all.”
“Mmhm.”
She waited for more. He didn’t give her anything. She rolled her eyes and tried not to get frustrated with him. “Why, Simon?”
He opened his eyes then but kept his black-red-white gaze up at the ceiling. “I am going to die in a week’s time. I will meet the void. I no longer need them. It seemed like the humane thing to do.” He paused, and a slow grin spread over his features. “I was also very angry.”
She chewed her lip and winced. That was a punch to the gut. She almost physically felt it. She sat down on a bench, placing the costume in her lap. She didn’t know what to say.
He picked up one of the wooden arms on the ground next to him and began to wave it around idly, watching the wrist and the digits on the hand flop back and forth as he did. “If I thought perhaps you might listen to reason—if you honestly loved me as you say you do—I would have kept them for the coming war. They might have been able to lend a hand.” He snickered loudly and waggled the severed arm.
She didn’t laugh.
He sighed and threw the arm aside with a clatter before shutting his eyes again. “I’m hysterical, and I know I am. I don’t need you to confirm it for me.”
“I’m sorry, Simon.”
“Really, I thought it was a clever joke, but it’s fine.”
“No.” She sighed. “Not