“Two months ago, a freak approached me wanting to buy the House of Clowns. He paid in cash, said he wouldn’t be the owner, that he worked for someone else.” He leaned on the counter, his black coat creased and tired. “Ever since the Family cut the funds...” he sighed, rubbing his neck, “I needed the money. But there were rumors that whoever bought the House of Clowns is someone else inside. The man who brought me the cash is the new circus director, Oscar, I believe it’s his name.”
“And you want me to find out who bought it?” I stood, my eyes locked on him.
“You’re a dream walker, Chiara. You can enter his dreams. Find out.”
I shook my head, my jaw tight. “Not a fucking chance. I barely made it out last time. Rio had to die just so I could get out.”
“Then usethe tarot,” he said with a grin. “You know things. We both know you do.”
“What are you talking about?” I snapped.
“You...” He glanced around the room, his voice lowering. “Let’s just say you see people who aren’t here anymore.”
“Are you trying to say that the man I saw isn’t real?” My heart kicked against my ribs. I was afraid of men, yes, but I was terrified of ghosts. Especially if he was one.
“I see no one,” he said. “Do you?”
“But the blood...” I looked at my hands, then down at the floor.
The blood was gone. But I cleaned it. IknowI did. The cloth was right there.
He lifted his brows. “Just saying.” Then, raising his hands in surrender, he added, “You belong in the House of Clowns.”
I sighed. “And what do I get in return?”
“Location,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Where Rio is buried.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. “That’s just cruel, Rocco.”
“So we have a deal?” He extended his hand toward me, waiting.
I exhaled, staring at him. “I’ll think about it.”
“Fair,” he said, turning toward the door. “Remember, the boat leaves tomorrow at midnight.”
I nodded, watching him disappear through the doorway.
The tarot deck he had given me was still in my hands. When the door slammed shut, I turned, opened the box, and revealed the cards inside. Black with golden edges, they gleamed under the faint light.
I closed my eyes, shuffled the deck, and pulled a single card.
The Moon.
Of course it was.
Maybe all of this was an illusion. The Moon meant justthat:madness, confusion, deception.Maybe I really had gone mad.
Even though I wanted to know where Rio was buried, even though all I had wished for this past year was to say a proper goodbye, I wasn’t ready to go back. Not yet. Not to do what Rocco asked.
Because if I got stuck inside someone’s dream again, I knew I wouldn’t come back. I would be trapped there forever, in an endless nightmare.
A sharp noise cracked behind me, and I gasped. When I turned, my breath caught.
On the window in front of me, painted in blood, was a smiling face.
I stumbled back, clutching the tarot deck to my chest, then ran through the kitchen and up the stairs. I slammed the door shut and locked it this time.
He has to be real. He has to be.
