Black magic was real. Or at least some kind of dark supernatural power. It certainly didn’t seem benign.
The Faire was alive. It ate parts of people’s “seity,” and so did the men and women—the things—that lived inside it.
But what she couldn’t accept was the possibility that she was now one of them. That was where she drew a hard line. But all the evidence pointed to the opposite. The invisible wall that had kept her trapped last night. And then there was what happened with Trent.
He hadn’t recognized her. They had been best friends since grade school, and he had looked at her like a stranger. There wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in his eyes when she had desperately begged him for help. Nothing.
Even if they had paid him off, she wasn’t sure he was that good of an actor.
She decided it didn’t matter what was real and what wasn’t. She could sort it all out when she was safely at home, in her own bed, and talking to the cops filing a report about kidnapping and harassment. She’d leave the “black magic, occult, man-eating murder-circus” out of the police report.
Her thoughts swung back to Simon. Those puppets of his…what he had said he was going to turn her into. She shivered despite the hot water and went about scrubbing herself with a washcloth and soap. Now Simon claimed he couldn’t hurt her without hurting himself, and so therefore, she was safe. She didn’t know if she would ever be safe. He was a lunatic.
Why had he come out in the rain for her? It didn’t make any sense. He was all over the map with her. His compass spun wildly and without warning. One moment, he was kissing her. The next, he was terrorizing her, screaming in a rage about how she was his property. If Aaron and Jack were to be believed, he had dumped her out in the grass like garbage. Then he…came out into the rain to drag her inside. North, south, north, south, and back again.
It didn’t matter. Simon was dangerous. It was more than a little likely that everyone else in the Faire was just as murderous, but they just hid it better.
Her next steps were simple. Get dressed, find a car, and drive it through the invisible wall. Get home, call the cops, then cry into a bottle of whiskey. Simple. Right?
Probably not. Nothing had been simple all week, and something told her that it sounded easy, but she might as well be trying to climb the outside of the observation tower with two suction cups.
I will not accept the fact that I’m trapped here. I’m not going to just accept this.
She turned off the shower and dried herself off. Her clothing was still soaking wet, so she dug around in the closet until she found what she needed. She wound up with underwear that thankfully fit her, along with black jeans, socks, boots, a tank top, and a simple gray linen coat. It was all stuff she would happily wear.
As though someone had picked it out for her.
She shuddered at the idea that this could all have been planned in advance. More and more evidence piled on the half of the scale that said she was now part of this place. But on the other side was an ounce of hope. And hope was very hard to kill.
When she had finally finished brushing out her hair, there was a knock on the door. She blinked and debated not answering it. She went through the options of who it could be. Best case scenario, it was a pack of cops coming to rescue her. Worst case, it was Simon coming to kill her.
Santa Claus, Darth Vader, and Einstein could also be standing there, with how her goddamn week was going. After the second knock, she went to the door and cautiously opened it.
And immediately had to jump back as two women plowed into the room. “Wh—”
“Good morning!” the first one exclaimed. She was about Cora’s height, with shoulder-length blonde hair and a bright, shining smile. It was the woman she had seen performing on the metal hoop the other day. She was effortlessly beautiful. She was also carrying a tray with a plate heaped with scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns.
It wasn’t until Cora noticed how good it smelled that she realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day prior. Her stomach grumbled, not caring that the invaders might be dangerous. “Uh…” She just watched as the other woman followed the first.
The second woman was a tiny thing. Maybe five foot even, or just a smidge more, with short dark hair. Both women looked like athletes. The blonde looked like she could rip off a car bumper with her bare hands.
Cora blinked. “Hello?”
The blonde with the tray put it down on the table in the little kitchenette. “I’m Amanda. This is Donna. You missed breakfast, so we figured we’d bring it to you.” Amanda shot her another award-winning smile. Weirdly, it didn’t seem faked, like those kinds of smiles usually did.
“I…um…” Cora shook her head, not sure what to do. The two women were just standing there smiling at her. Amanda was looking at her with happiness and excitement. Like it was Christmas morning.
Donna, the little dark-haired one, waved Cora over to the table. “I know this’s been rough for you. Come on, sit, eat. You’ll feel better with something on your stomach.”
“I, thanks, but…” Cora chewed her lip and shook her head. No, she shouldn’t feel like the awkward one. These people were kidnapping her. “I need to go home. I need to find a way out of here.”
Both women sighed and cast knowing glances at each other. Donna moved from the kitchenette to Cora and put a hand gently on her shoulder. “I didn’t come willingly either. I didn’t know what was happening. Juggler just picked me out of the crowd, and before I knew it, I was trapped here too. Just like you. I spent days clawing at the walls, trying to get out. I snapped off my fingernails and didn’t understand why they just grew back. It took me a month of running through the Inversion before I realized I wasn’t going to get home. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”
“The Inversion?” Cora brushed off the woman’s hand. She didn’t want to insult the woman, but she was a little confused at how touchy everyone at Harrow Faire seemed to be. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“So, sit, eat, and let us explain.” Amanda smiled and motioned to the chair. “Please. And then, when you don’t believe us, you can go back to running at the gate trying to get out.”
Cora rubbed a hand over her face and sighed. “Fine.” She went over to the kitchenette table and sat down. It only had two chairs. Donna took the one across from her while Amanda propped herself up against the counter.
She picked up the fork and began to eat. It was good. Very good. And she was starving. After taking a bite, she remembered her manners. “Thank you. I’m Cora.”
“We know.” Donna smiled. “I’m the Flyer, and this is Amanda, the Aerialist. And now, you’re our Contortionist.”
Amanda sighed happily, almost dreamily, as if she was picturing something grand in her mind. “It’s so nice to have a woman in the role. Imagine the triple acts we can do now! Hernandez was great, but he was afraid of heights. He was so skittish. So jumpy.” She chuckled. “Are you afraid of heights?”
Cora hovered her fork over the pile of hash browns. “No?” She felt like she was standing on the side of the road just watching traffic fly by. “I don’t think so.”
“Great!” Amanda clapped, giggled excitedly, then motioned for her to keep eating. “Don’t let me interrupt. You must be starving.”