I looked down at Kenzie. “You okay?”
She nodded, and I slumped in relief. “Well,” she said, as Razor dropped onto a horse’s head, buzzing, and the Thin Man wove his way through the mounts toward us, looking annoyed, “that was...horrifying. At least I can cross one more thing off the list of things I want to do before I die.”
“Survive the clown apocalypse?” I guessed. She grinned at me.
“Nope. Join the circus.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. Relief that we were out of that crazy place was making me kind of giddy. I was even thrilled to see the dark, empty creepiness of the Between. That’s how glad I was. “You’re a strange girl,” I told her. “Brilliant, but strange.”
She beamed. “That’s why you love me.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. She sobered, gazing into my eyes, as I pulled her closer against me. “Though if you do ever join the circus,” I murmured, holding her gaze, “promise me you won’t volunteer for the knife thrower’s assistant? I think I had at least three minor heart attacks tonight.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kenzie said, a wicked look crossing her face. “It was kind of exciting. The two of us could perfect an act and take it on the road.” At my mock horrified look, she smiled and brushed back my hair. “I trust you, tough guy,” she murmured. “Even tonight in the ring, when I wasn’t certain if you would throw the knife at my head or use it to stab the ringmaster, I trusted you. I know you would never hurt me.”
“Humans.”
Grimalkin’s bored voice cut through the silence. I drew back, rolling my eyes, as the cat appeared on the saddle of a nearby horse. “I would say we are wasting time,” he said, thumping his tail against the peeling paint, “but it never appears to sink in. Shall we go, before the Between starts manifesting hearts and balloons and other nauseating things?” The cat rose and leaped gracefully off the carousel horse, giving us a revolted look as he landed. “I shudder to think of the reality that might spring up around the pair of you. I believe it would be even more frightening than the carnival.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VANISHED REALITIES
More wandering the Between. Okay, maybe wandering wasn’t the right word, as the Thin Man seemed to know where he was going. But it sure felt like wandering, walking in endless circles through a creepy landscape that was always more of the same. I ached, from various wounds caused by throwing knives, tiger claws and unicorn horns. And now I was paranoid about stumbling into another pocket of reality, another whacked-out world that had sprung from the head of a bat-shit crazy fey. The carnival had been terrifying enough; I did not want to find myself suddenly trapped in an abandoned asylum, running from nightmares in long white coats wanting to “cure” me.
“Stop that,” the Thin Man told me, as a stretcher rolled out of the fog, wheels creaking in the silence. It continued past us and disappeared into the mist, and I shuddered. “You’re doing it again.”
“Yeah, pardon me for being a little freaked-out by the whole evil carnival thing,” I growled. “I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t a mermaid or selkie that found the anchor and that the carnival wasn’t underwater. You could’ve mentioned that we might run into something like that before we started.”
“I did not think it likely we would find one,” the Thin Man replied. “Anchors are very few and far between. They are not simply lying around for anyone to attach a world to. You could wander the Between for a lifetime, a millennium, and not run across one.” He gave me a look from the corner of one pale eye. “I was just as unpleasantly shocked as you when we stumbled upon that reality, but I am discovering that you have an uncanny ability to attract trouble, Ethan Chase. It is almost a talent.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “Welcome to my world.”
And of course, at that moment, we walked through some invisible barrier in the mist and fog...and the world changed.
“Dammit, not again,” I groaned, wondering what kind of nightmare we’d gotten into now. It was not, at least, another carnival. Or creepy abandoned asylum. We stood at the edge of sleepy meadow, a huge yellow moon hanging overhead, so close you could almost see its cratered surface. Forest surrounded us, dark and tangled, and a narrow stream wound along the edges of the trees. Though it looked perfectly still and normal, there was something about the whole scene that bothered me. Not in the this is straight out of a horror movie way, just a faint feeling of disquiet.
In the center of the grove stood an enormous Victorian mansion. Towers and turrets soared into the air, spearing the night sky. Windows and balconies rose above us, archways and pillars were scattered around the stone walls, and a pair of huge stone lions guarded the end of the walkway.
“Wow,” Kenzie remarked, craning her neck up to stare at the huge house. “Well, whoever owns this crazy reality, at least they have good taste.”
Grimalkin sauntered up and leaped onto a nearby rock. “That,” he stated imperiously, waving his tail, “is Leanansidhe’s mansion.”
I exhaled in relief. Never had I been so glad to see the lair of a dangerous, impossibly fickle faery queen in my life. Of course, I’d never seen the outside of her mansion, but I’d take Grimalkin’s word that this was it. “Let’s go,” I said, and started toward the mansion. “The sooner we find Annwyl, the sooner we can get out of here.”
“Hold a moment, Ethan Chase,” the Thin Man said. I gave him a puzzled look, and he folded his hands before him. “I believe it best if you see the Exile Queen without me,” he went on with a somewhat pained smile. “I do not think Leanansidhe would take kindly to having a Forgotten inside her home. And the Summer girl might react poorly if she saw me with you. I would not want to frighten her away.” He nodded at the mansion. “You go on, meet with the Exile Queen. I shall wait until you return with the girl.”