They were gone. Now they were back. Add it to the list.
Aaron’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean? Cora. What do you know?”
“I have to go. I’m sorry. It might already be too late.” She turned and walked away, not glancing back over her shoulder as Aaron called after her. But she needed to do this. She needed to get to Simon’s performance tent and get this all over with before Trent was murdered.
When she reached her target, she looked at the flaps and felt nothing but dread. Her stomach fell into a pit to Hell. This was the end of it all. Whatever game the Faire was playing with her…this was it. She should turn and run. She should literally run for her life.
But she was trapped, wasn’t she?
She rubbed her sore shoulder. The one silver lining to this whole disaster was that if she was dead or Simon’s “doll,” her constant pain would at least be over. She was never one to try to find the bright side of situations. Finding it now made her laugh sadly.
No point in lurking on his doorstep. She didn’t even know if he was inside. Taking a deep breath, she slowly let it out. One step in front of the other was all it took, and it was all she could manage. As she walked inside, the sunlight transitioned quickly into darkness, and it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust.
The rows of benches in front of the stage were all empty. Props sat on the edges of the wings, along with rows of flat and painted scenery, all stacked up and waiting to be used. The overhead lights were dim—the old-fashioned amber filaments giving the room strange shadows. It gave them the illusion of movement, like the shadows themselves were creeping toward her. Maybe they were. She wouldn’t have been surprised. “Hello?”
Silence reigned for a long moment before a voice whispered in her ear. “You came.”
She screamed.
17
The voice had come from right behind her. She whirled and looked up at Simon, with all his sharp angles and shadows. His bizarre, black-red-white eyes were unhidden. He smiled at her slowly, the expression going from friendly to decidedly hungry. He would be gorgeous if he weren’t looking at her like she was a ham sandwich and he was starving.
“Hello, Cora.”
“Your face healed.” She winced, remembering what he had looked like the day prior. She had seen through to where Ringmaster’s whip had split his face down to the bone. His face looked like nothing had happened. There wasn’t even a mark. It was just more proof of the impossible. More proof of magic.
“Hum?” He touched his face. “Oh! Yes. Right. That. I nearly forgot.” He chuckled.
“You forgot about your face being ripped open?”
“Oh, yes. It happens.”
“I…um…okay.” She chewed her lip for a moment. Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved his sunglasses. She held them out to him.
“I was wondering where they went to!” He took them from her and, flicking them open, examined the lenses. He cleaned them off with his handkerchief and placed them back on his face. “Thank you, dear.”
“They disappeared when I left here, then reappeared when I came back. Why?”
“Hm? Oh. Simply because outside this place, we don’t exist. Only in the fleeting dreams of others. And even then, if they are to dream of us in their nightmares, we only exist as who we are after we came here.”
“That makes no sense.”
He smiled. “I know. It doesn’t matter. Now, I assume…” He drew out the last word for way too long. He folded his hands behind his back and leaned forward, as if he needed to tower over her even more than he already was. “You’re here because you’ve chosen to save your friend who is currently getting stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey.”
“Yes. And don’t ever describe it like that again.” She made a face.
“Have a problem with your friend’s proclivities, do you?”
“Not in the slightest. I just don’t need to think about him mid-action, that’s all.”
He straightened back up and laughed. “I thought it was quite clever! Although you should be the judge. You have such a colorful use of language.”
She took a step back. He was too close to her, and he really was tall. He was all long lines, and it was unsettling at best. She didn’t know if she would ever get used to it. She didn’t know if she would have the chance to. “Thanks…”
“I still very much enjoy your invective about the pogo stick. I opted not to follow your instructions, though.” His smile grew. He was almost always smiling—it was just a matter of degrees. “Hope you don’t mind. It’s not my style. Maybe your friend might want to give it a go.” He sniffed dismissively. “It’d clearly fit.”
She fought the urge to laugh. Fought, and lost. She shook her head at the man’s terrible joke and let herself chuckle. That seemed to please him, and his smile split into a grin for a moment. “Simon…what’re you going to do?”
“A complicated question with an equally complicated answer, I’m afraid!” Every once in a while, his British accent flared up, and his words flowed out of him effortlessly with a smooth flair. She remembered their kiss, and her face went warm. He really was handsome.
For a monster.
I’m about to die, and I’m standing here wondering if he’d wait an hour so I can go out with a bang. She laughed at her own stupid pun.
“What?” He blinked quizzically.
“Nothing.”
“Something was funny.” He stepped toward her. “What was it?”
She took a step back. “Nothing I’m going to tell you.”
“Fine. Be that way.” He smiled. “I don’t mind. Now, Ms. Cora. We have a deal to broker, don’t we?” He stepped closer again, backing her toward the stage and away from the exit. He had that fiendish, wolfish grin on his face, even if his unnatural gaze that she could see just above the edge of his glasses looked more sultry than dangerous. “Unless you came for something else…” The way he purred the innuendo sent a shiver down her spine.
“Let’s make this perfectly clear. I’m here to save my friend. That’s all. I’m not here because of you.”
“A shame.” He shrugged dismissively. “No matter. You’ll have plenty of time to change your mind, although we’ll be relegated to the worlds in our dreams after today.” He strolled toward her again, and she dutifully retreated. “I’m a sick bastard, no doubt about that, but having relations with one of my dolls is too twisted, even for me.” He wrinkled his nose. “And rather uncomfortable too, I imagine. Splinters, and all.”
“You said you weren’t going to kill me…”
“Cora dear, come now.” He backed her into the lip of the stage. She jolted at the impact, grabbing it with both hands as he closed the distance between them. He leaned in, and she was forced to tilt back over the stage to keep the few remaining inches she had. He pressed his palms to the stage on either side of her. “I told you I’m not. And I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
That dangerous, fiendish smile split his face. Once more he was the cat and she was the canary, and he couldn’t be happier. “I tasted a piece of you. Such a small, delicate shard. And I decided I could not live without savoring the rest of you. I don’t plan to kill you—I plan to consume you. Bit by bit. Little by little, until there’s nothing of you left…”