House of Clowns (HUNT Trilogy #1)

18. EIGHTEEN

EIGHTEEN

ACE

S haking hands awoke me, and Dhalia's face was written all over with worry combined with urgency. "Did you see where Ruby went?"

"No," I mumbled, struggling to pull myself from the brink of sleep.

"I can't find her anywhere," she whispered, her throat tight. "I have to speak with her.

"Shouldn't we just go see the manager?" I suggested, rubbing my eyes.

"Will you come with me?" She pulled me from the bed, her fingers wrapping around my wrist like releasing it would break the spell of whatever gave her the courage.

I got up reluctantly, feeling like a dead weight dragging across the floor. She handed me one of her oversized shirts and a pair of slippers, into which I slipped my half-open eyes. The shirt was loose, more of a dress than anything else, but I didn't care; all I wanted was to have everything over with so I could crawl again into bed.

"Come on, hurry." She dragged me down the stairs, our quiet footsteps echoing in the silence. As we landed in the hallway, the dark, heavy door at the end loomed larger with each step. Dhalia knocked frantically, and a low, disgruntled growl echoed from inside, supplemented by a rough shout, "It's fucking open."

Inside, a man slumped over a table, an almost empty bottle of rum beside him.

"Rocco," Dhalia called out, strains of desperation in her voice. "Ruby's gone missing!"

His name cut like a sharp prick, slicing through my sleep. Could this Rocco be my father? I stared at him, noting the lines on his face, the shadow of familiarity, even into his eyes, a mirror of my own.

"What?" He shot up, slamming his fist onto the table, his eyes blazing.

"I have looked for her everywhere and she is nowhere to be found," Dhalia choked out, her voice quivering with her tears. "And if I tried to pull cards… only Devil and Death came out."

"Calm the fuck down," he growled, flipping her a crushed tissue. "Go to your room. The new girl here will fill you in on what you need to know.".

Dhalia nodded, the sound of her sobs echoing down the empty hall as she turned and hurried away.

My chest clenched. I just wanted Ruby to be okay.

Rocco closed the door behind him and then turned to me, his eyes piercing as he motioned to a chair. "Sit."

I let myself fall into the seat, my body tensing up. He crossed to the table, yanked out the notebook, and slammed it onto the surface between us.

"You read it all?" he asked, seeming for all the world to have expected me to find it, to dig into secrets I wasn't meant to know.

"I..." The words choked in my throat.

"I gave it to Carlo, to give to you," he said. His eyes weighed in condemnation. "But I never thought you'd come here back with it. Extremely stupid of you."

He flipped through the pages and stopped near the end. "Their last victim," he read, his voice gruff, "would be Rocco Salvatore in 2023."

I swallowed as my pulse raced loudly in my ears. "Did... did Ariane write that?"

He shook his head, his eyes piercing. "No. You did."

The words hit me like a wave, and I was speechless with the chill.

“I… wrote it?” My mouth went dry. “How?”

“You have a gift, same as your mother,” he said quietly. “When you visited the circus at the age of six, you scrawled it in here. You predicted all of it.”

My eyes widened, disbelief mingling with shock. “How? How could I have…?”

“It’s in your blood,” he said, a shadow of something raw in his eyes.

I stared at the notebook, hands shaking.

"By now, you know I'm your biological father," he said, upon hearing each word land with the weight of a blow. "And don't even ask me for anything, 'cause I ain't gonna give you a damn thing."

"I didn't want anything from you," I spat, his apathy raking over my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.

"I just want to prevent this Circle from inflicting further harm. Nothing else." His eyes didn't waver.

"How did you get the notebook?" I asked, my angry eyes narrowing into slits, searching his for something that made sense.

"Ruby," he replied, his voice icy casual. "She brought it to me. Read a few pages, and wanted in."

My fists clenched. "Is she... gone now?"

"Yeah," he said, cold and unfaltering.

"You monster," I exclaimed, starting up with such rapidity that my chair scraped away upon the floor; but his voice cut through the room, keen and clear as a blade.

"Sit down." The command seemed to go through me like an electric shock, and I dropped back into the chair, my body rigid from feet to crown.

"She knew too much," he growled low. "And now, so do you. But you have something she didn't—a gift."

"What do you want?" I demanded, my lip curling in disgust as I held his gaze with a defiant glare.

A twisted smile oozed across his face. "You're going to make them dream." He hitched forward with the glint in his eye darker. "I'll introduce you at their carnival as a special guest, and you'll trap them in a dream within a dream."

"So they'll be stuck forever?" I returned, the horror settling deep into my chest.

"Only those who matter to them," he returned, his voice cold as steel. "It will keep them occupied, while I kill every last one of them."

"No," I said, my voice rising.

He stood, slamming his fist upon the desk, making the room shudder. "They took your mother! They tortured her, drowned her, and buried her in the basement of Lotta's house. Don't you want them to pay?!"

I heard my pulse hammering in my ears, my breath was thin and the walls seemed to close in. I felt a scream in my throat. But only tears came, tracing hot lines down my face. His words burrowed into me, settling with a finality that couldn't be denied.

Mom was really gone.

He had said, "Hypno will help you," and his voice was lighter, mocking almost. "You can find him in the main tent."

I stood, my legs unsteady, trying to pull together, but every step seemed a weight dragging me down. Everything around me faded as I climbed the stairs and my breathing came in short gasps. I was hollow, my heart cracking under the weight of what I'd just learned. I wanted to disappear, to slip into some dark corner where no one would find me, where I could pretend that none of this was real. But reality had sunk its teeth in, and there was no getting away from it anymore.

I dragged myself upstairs to the bedroom somehow. Half an hour had slid behind my back, and with every push of my hand, the door creaked, swinging open to meet the silence like an old, heavy shadow. Dhalia deserved to know it all—the truth and all its horrifying details—but I couldn't bring myself to involve her in that. Keeping her out was the only assurance I knew to keep her safe.

I approached the bed, and there was a single red rose lying, waiting upon the pillow, its red petals stark against the sheets, and a note tucked beside it. My breath hitched as I whispered, "Rio," reaching for it with trembling fingers.

I unfolded the paper, and his words hit me like a wound.

"Don't wait for me, my Bambolina . I won't be here for quite some time."

What do you mean? I wanted to scream, to beg for some explanation that would somehow ease the weight, yet there was only an empty room and the rose's sweet scent entwined with my tears. I fell onto the bed, and laid the rose on the pillow beside me, curling up beside it as if somehow it might fill the spot he had left.

There is a love that makes you cry, a love that makes you smile, but the love that makes you wait—that's the most dangerous of all. For you never know whether it's worth waiting for, whether that person shall ever come back, or whether time will take them further and further away. It was cruel, paying with a heart.

Even finding someone else, his ghost will always be there, a question never to be answered, a memory interwoven in every step forward. And telling me not to wait only broke me more because now I would always wonder: What could have been? What would we have been if I hadn't let him go? I did not know whether this love was a blessing or a curse; either way, it would tear me apart.