“Does everybody have…freaky superpowers like you?”
“Hm? Super-what?” He paused. “Ah. I get it. No. Well, yes. But most of them have far less…useful and spectacular gifts. I lucked out, all things considered. However, I did go entirely bonkers. I suppose there’s that to take into account.” He cackled.
A liar and an admitted madman. She had to remember that. “I really do wish you’d give me my gun back.”
“Later. You don’t need it. You could put as many holes in me as you want, and you’d just ruin my nice clothes and scare the patrons.” He grinned. “But later, I can strip naked, and you can pop me with your little toy as many times as you like.”
She grimaced. “Hard pass.”
“Damn.”
She really almost laughed that time. “So, you can’t die?”
“No.” His expression grew strained. “It is not as fun as you might think.” He switched back to his usual manic self like a flick of a button. “Although! It does take the risk out of certain things. I have no fear of high places anymore. I suppose the circus acts would be rather more disappointing if the audience knew how many times the performers had fallen without the net, only to get up and brush themselves off afterward.” He snickered.
“Does it hurt, though?”
“Oh, yes. Wonderful motivator, pain. Wouldn’t you agree?” His eyes glinted in mischief as he looked down at her askance. “Don’t forget our deal, Cora dear. The offer still awaits your reply.”
“You haven’t told me what I’d be trading.” She took a step to the left to walk a little farther away from him. She knew the distance was pointless, but it was comforting. “And I’m more interested in saving Trent right now.”
“Well…if the photos you described to me were as you say, then it seems that you may be able to kill two birds with one stone. The Faire showed you my tent, didn’t it? I propose this—we go to see if Harrow will speak to you. If he does not, then…come to my tent. Let us discuss the terms. Perhaps you can save your friend, and I will have what I want, and all will be right with the world.”
Why did the idea of setting foot inside his tent seem like a terrible point of no return? Probably because…it was. She wasn’t usually one to listen to her instincts, but this time she tried to pay attention. Her usual understanding of everything in the world had been thrown out. Logic. Reason. Science. Poof.
Magic was real.
Instinct might be all she had left.
“I’m not going to agree to anything until you make it perfectly clear what I’m agreeing to, Simon.”
“Of course! I would never think of tricking you. Really, I’m insulted. I am beginning to suspect you are listening to the Barker and the others.” He huffed. “Lies and slander.”
She watched him for a moment. He moved with a grace that she wouldn’t have expected from someone of his size. He was all sharp lines and high contrast. His suit was tailored to make him look…well, eccentric. With the crimson fabric and black pinstripes, the odd-colored glasses, and the ruffled, wavy black hair…he looked like the devil himself. “They all hate you, don’t they?”
“Mmm, hate is a strong word.” He grinned. “I think ‘loathe to the point where they wish I would burst into flames and spend the rest of eternity screaming in agony’ is a stronger and far more appropriate descriptor.”
That time, she did laugh. It was small, and it was weak, but it was there. “Why?” Oh, she knew she couldn’t trust a word that came out of his mouth. But she was curious what reason he’d give.
“Jealousy, perhaps. I’m honestly not quite sure. I’ve never done anything wrong.” He shrugged. “You would have to ask them, to be blunt.”
“Right.”
“You don’t believe me!” He threw up his hands. “That is hardly fair, Cora. I haven’t done anything to you. Not a damn thing. Barker and Rigger are off running to Ringmaster now to complain that I’ve hurt you, when it was you who asked me to put your shoulder back in its joint. That is the story of my life. People ask me to help them, and when I do, I’m blamed for it!”
She blinked at his angry rant. Angry, and just a little desperate. “I’m sorry.”
The frantic expression on his face vanished as quickly as it had arrived. “Apology accepted.”
“Maybe if you weren’t so fucking creepy, Aaron would like you more.”
“No, I suspect it has very much more to do with the fact that I’ve dismembered him a few times.” He smiled sweetly.
“Dismembered?” She took another step farther away from him as they walked. “You said you’ve never done anything wrong! I’m pretty sure that counts.”
“Cora, Cora Cora…” He sighed and suddenly stepped into her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to hug her to his side. “You really are adorably slow. You should be so happy that you’re beautiful. You heard me when I said we cannot die. I fear that without the threat of permanent harm, arguments become a bit more spectacular.” He grinned viscously. “I would never dismember you. There are many things I would like to do with you…Oh, such a list I’ve created in my head.” His fingers on her shoulder spread, caressing her. “But you’re safe with me.”
Says the shark to the fish. She pushed away from him. She didn’t like the feeling of his arm around her. Not because it felt wrong.
But because it felt just a little too nice.
He was, like she supposed the devil would be, fiendish and cruel—but alluring. She knew she was attracted to him on a surface level. But the threats of violence, Trent being in danger, and the fact that he was a supernatural, immortal, murdering lunatic kind of tipped the scales out of his favor.
“What’s with all the titles?” She quickly changed the subject. “Barker, Rigger, whatever? You people have names, so why not use them?”
Clearly disappointed at her dodge, he looked off thoughtfully then shrugged. “No harm in explaining it, I suppose. There are twenty-two of us in total. And only ever twenty-two. Sometimes there are fewer, but never more. We are each an aspect of the system that Mr. Harrow created to build and sustain the Faire. Think of this place like a sea anemone. Alive, instinctual, but not sentient. Mr. Harrow, therefore, is like the cultivator of an aquarium. All of this”—he gestured his arms out wide to the carnival around them—“is Mr. Harrow’s design. And we are the adorable little fish in the tank that help feed and care for the anemone that also sustains us.”
Cora didn’t know what to say. “This place was abandoned a few days ago. Now it isn’t. What happened?”
“That is a far more complicated topic better saved for another day. One thing at a time for your overwhelmed mind.”
“I’m not stupid, Simon, and I really don’t like it when you say I am.”
He chuckled. “I don’t mean it as an insult. When I came here, it took me years to accept what had happened to me.” His expression fell again, the humor leaving him. “It took me years to understand.”
“How did you…uh…join?” She didn’t know what else to call it.