So close, and yet…so far.
The early spring rain was cold. She was shivering, and she was soaked to the bone. She couldn’t give a fuck. She sat there for what could have been hours. She was going to wait until the first person came through those gates the next day, and she would fall at their feet and beg for them to call the police.
She had seen Jack on the other side of the entry gate out in the parking lot. She knew they could go out there. But not her.
“It doesn’t trust you yet.” That was what Turk had said.
Whatever.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice when it stopped raining. Well, more accurately, it had stopped raining on her. It was still pouring, but the spot around her in a circle was no longer being hit by the rain. Neither was she.
She blinked.
She went to look up just as something slipped over her head. She yelped and grabbed at it. It was fabric. Were they sticking her in a bag and dragging her off to—
It was a towel. It came off easily in her hands. A white cotton bath towel. She looked down at it in confusion, then up to find the source of whoever had dumped it over her head like they were playing with the family dog.
A man was standing over her with an umbrella above his head, his expensive red and black suit looking more crimson in the dim light. His eyes were covered by sunglasses, despite the darkness. And he was smiling down at her.
Simon.
She shot to her feet in record time. When she tried to run from him, he held out his hand in front of him, his fingers at odd angles.
And suddenly she couldn’t move at all.
“Don’t run, my dear, sweet, darling cupcake. I’m out here in the rain for you, after all.” He pulled in a deep breath, and when he let it out, all the rest of his words ran together in one quick stream. “I was sitting in my boxcar, and I was thinking we better not start all this off on the wrong foot, what with me trying to eat you and all, so I figured I should come and apologize.” He coughed as he ran out of air toward the end. He smiled a little broader. “And when I saw you out here, crying in the rain, I thought—how sad. How perfectly tragic.” He scrunched up his nose. “You look awful. Like a drowned rat.”
“Fuck you.”
“Later.” He tilted his head to the side slightly, as though thinking. “Now? I could do now.”
She tried to pull herself free, but his strings were impossible. “Let me go. I can’t take being manhandled anymore. Please. Stop this.”
“Don’t run away from me, then, and I will. I don’t want to watch you get rained on like a stray cat, and I don’t terribly want to ruin my suit, either. This is very nice velour I’m wearing.”
She gritted her teeth. Where was she going to go? She couldn’t escape. Not yet, anyway. “Are you going to kill me?”
“No, sweetheart. Killing you means killing me. Maiming you means maiming me. And I very much like not being mangled.” He smiled with what she assumed was supposed to be an innocent expression.
It wasn’t. Not in the slightest.
“Fine. I won’t run.”
“Very well.” He lowered his hand, and she felt the bindings around her drop away. She stood there, wondering if she should break her word and take off anyway. But he could likely just snatch her again before she had made it ten feet. And she was so tired and sore, she knew any attempt on her part would be pathetic. “Now, be good.”
So, like an idiot and a loser, she used the towel to dry off her face and her hair.
“Silly girl, sobbing at the door, like anyone will care.” He chuckled. “Come on, let’s take you to your boxcar. You need a warm shower and to get some rest. Things will look better in the morning.”
“I doubt that.”
“Well, they certainly can’t look worse, now, can they?” He laughed, clearly pleased and proud of his joke. She glared up at him, and that only made him laugh harder. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“I’m not going to magically forgive you for trying to kill me.”
“I don’t suppose you would. And for the last time, I wasn’t trying to kill you, cupcake. I was trying to trap your life force inside a puppet of my own creation so I could slowly consume you over the course of the next few decades.” He leaned in closer. “Do try to keep up.”
She stared at him angrily and tried to see if she could burst him into flames with her mind. Sadly, no dice.
“Come along, now!” He straightened and turned from her, starting to walk back into the park. She was quickly back in the rain, and she shuddered at the sudden cold. He looked back at her, stopped, tipped his head back, and let out a loud and beleaguered sigh. “Why do you have to be so difficult? You can’t get sick and die anymore, but you can be miserable. Heel, Contortionist.” He whistled and patted his thigh like she was an animal.
“What did you just call me?”
He smiled. “Contortionist. That’s who you are now. I’m Puppeteer. You have already met Ringmaster, Barker, Rigger, and Strongman. I believe you also met Soothsayer and Bearded Lady.” He shook his head. “You really are adorably dense.” He moved his hand, and she jerked forward and back under his umbrella. Invisible strings had pulled her there. “And you’re just getting soaked again. Now, stay close.”
He began to walk, and to her sheer horror, she was walking alongside him. Entirely against her will.
Puppeteer. Right.
“Stop it. Stop it! I’ll walk. Just—please—” She felt panic creeping up on her again. She was going to hyperventilate. “Just no more.”
“Okie-dokie, darling.” He released her, and she staggered a few steps as she tried to regain control of herself. She straightened, clutching the bath towel tightly, and was shaking as she walked alongside him in the rain.
He was whistling a waltz, seemingly as happy as he could be.
Meanwhile, she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
And now that she wasn’t actively in the rain, she was cold, miserable, and exhausted. They walked down an abandoned path through the carnival, between the rows of switched-off rides, food carts, game booths, and attraction tents. All the lights were off, save for those that ran up the massive observation tower in the center of the park. Those always seemed to stay lit and twinkled through the rain.
It felt like the whole place was staring at her, and she wrapped the towel over her shoulders out of a need to feel some kind of comfort.
“What’s happened to me…?”
“I’d tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me. I bet a few people have tried already.” He pushed his glasses up his nose with the press of a ring finger to the silver bridge. “So, I won’t bother. Not until you’ve had some proper sleep and maybe breakfast. You look like you’re one good startle away from going into a coma as it is.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I have half a mind to test the theory, but…eh…you’re pathetic looking when you’re crying, and I don’t like it.”
“Asshole.”
“Mmhm. Be more creative if you’re going to insult me. I know you’re capable of it.”
They walked past the small gate that said Staff Only on it in large letters. There she saw the rows of vintage train cars, arranged in lazy arcs. Some had lit windows, and some didn’t.