The Puppeteer (Harrow Faire, #2)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

You might think that man the fool. You might think him a harmless, laughing lunatic. It is a mistake that leads to ruin. For that man is the most dangerous of them all.

it seemed she had been so exhausted that her mind couldn’t even summon up nightmares from her day. Which was pretty damn impressive, as she had plenty of fuel for her mind to burn. Being haunted by a man-eating murder-circus, almost being turned into an inhuman and monstrous meal-via-porcelain-doll by an undead psychopath, and now being trapped inside said man-eating murder-circus with said undead psychopath. An undead psychopath to whom she was mildly attracted, but that was another stupid problem entirely.

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.

“Don’t call me names, you overdressed crimson pimp. I’m well past my limit, and I’m done taking shit from somebody who looks like they fell out of the bargain bin at a Halloween outlet.”

“You need to understand your cage before you can try to pick the lock.”

“I wanted to turn you into a doll because I want you, Cora. I wanted to keep you. I shot you because I want you to accept what you are now. My crimes are covetous, but they don’t come from malice or spite.” “What about terrorizing me?” “Okay, that part I do for fun.” “Do? Present tense?” “Did you think I was going to stop?” He snickered.

“It means he likes you.” Simon smiled helpfully. There’s so much to unpack in that statement that I don’t know what to do with it. She opted to eat her ice cream and try not to watch the grinning, nightmarish shadow as it snuggled—straight up snuggled—against hers.

He took in a breath and let it out. “I don’t say this often. If ever. I hope you appreciate it, as you won’t likely ever hear it again. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“I would have stopped if you told me to.” He opened the door. The shadow on the wall next to her snapped obediently back to where it should be. “Even monsters like me have to have some standards.” It makes you better than a lot of people, and that’s terrifying. She opted not to flatter him.

“I would have let myself in again, but I thought that might not be the best way to make friends, twice in a row and all.” “I wasn’t aware you wanted to be friends.” “Well, I’d prefer to be passionate lovers, but after last night, I think we should start over at the beginning.”

“That is most definitely a ‘no.’ Don’t they say talking about trauma helps in the healing process?” “You know what helps me in the healing process? Stabbing you with this fork.”

Perhaps he could finally rewrite the Faire to his own desires…or perhaps he would end up blowing off his own hands in the process. Either way. It’d be good for a laugh.

“I hate you. You realize that, right?” “Everyone hates me. That’s nothing new.”

If I am a god in this place and I kneel at her feet, what is she?

In the running game of “which version of Simon is more of a nutjob,” it was currently about tied. At least this one seemed utterly harmless. Handsy, fine. Overly affectionate, fine. But he wasn’t shooting her or dragging her around on strings.

Dear Libido, you pick the worst possible times. Love, Simon.

Hate your cage. Find another. Build it with your own bare hands if you must—but understand that it is a cage all the same. Embrace it. Fashion it with pride. Make it your home. There is no such thing as freedom for our species. Take these words to your soul, and happiness will follow.