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Valli whacks me in the stomach.

“All these years and I finally get the Scarecrow glare.” Nixie steps closer instead of backing away, then she pats my arm, and I growl at her touch. No one touches me unless they belong to me. “Message received, now hear mine. If this girl comes home to you crying, it will be from laughing at my stories about the year Vero tried to unionize. I don’t break my people. I build them up, so long as they want this. You of all people should know that.”

I do. That is the only reason I didn’t break her hand, and I think she knows that.

“Besides,” Nixie says, turning back to Valli. “If I mistreat her, I have a death wish. I’m difficult, not stupid. Inside now, sweetheart. It’s time for my coffee order, and this is the only time you will hear it.”

Valli turns to me, bouncing up on her toes, and kisses me. In the open, in front of Nixie and anyone else who is around.

“Go. Do whatever it is you normally do during the day, and I will see you tonight.” She goes inside and the door shuts.

I stand there long enough to hear Nixie say something and Valli laugh. I guess she will be okay, which is good because I have somewhere else I need to be.

I know how to move around the island unseen to vanish off any cameras, and I hug the blind spots. I do not want anyone to know where I’m going.

The residential area sits in rows of houses. Some staff share, and others have a place to themselves. The last house has a garden out the front, tomatoes, herbs, and a wind chime with the clapper removed, so it never makes a sound. I don’t knock, as he will hear me coming.

“Heavy footsteps for a quiet man,” the Jester calls from inside. “Come in, corn king, the kettle is on.”

Inside, his house is clean, which unsettles me about him. Vesper calls him the island imbecile, and he thanks her for it. He is a recent addition to the island, and he may be someone I can tolerate for longer than two minutes.

He hands me a cup of tea I didn’t ask for when I enter the kitchen.

“How’s your girl’s first day?” he asks. “I saw you walking her in on my way home, very ‘bring your scarecrow to work’ day.” He picks up a ring of keys from a bowl on the counter. “Shall we?”

The basement is behind the pantry. He descends the stairs ahead of me, the bells on his costume ringing as he hits each step. The Jester told me when I first came here that the tinkling sound is a mercy, that his victims hear him coming and have time to prepare.

The basement smells of antiseptic. Two cells sit side by side, their iron bars designed to keep people from escaping. In the far cell is Steedy, or what is left of him. Whatever the Jester does to him is not my concern. He is alive, barely.

In the cell beside him is Rowan, who jumps off his cot and hits the bars with both hands. He is untouched, with not a mark on him. He is fed and watered and kept warm.

“You freak,” Rowan spits at me. “You can’t keep me here. People will look for me. I have friends.”

“You don’t, though, do you,” the Jester says in his musical voice. “We checked, you see. Your landlord re-listed your room. And the rest couldn’t care less about you.”

“My sister will⁠—”

“Careful,” the Jester cuts him off.

Rowan’s eyes dart between us. He learned quickly that saying Valli’s name would cost him. “This is kidnapping, and it’s illegal. When I get out of here . . .”

The Jester’s maniacal laughter overwhelms his words. “When,” the Jester repeats, dragging a stool over to sit nearby. “I love when; it’s my favorite. Do you know what the man next door said? He said when too. He is more of a listener now.”

From the far cell, Steedy’s breathing hitches, but he says nothing more. Rowan flinches, as he does at every sound Steedy makes. The Jester is good; I’ll give him that.

“Let me go,” Rowan says. “I’ll disappear—you’ll never hear from me again. I’ll leave the state and leave her alone.”

“I love when they bargain. But I want to be fair, so let me lay out your situation in small words.” He holds up one finger. “Steedy’s operation is gone, but now there are some angry men out there, and your name is one they will remember. If I let you go, you’re a loose end with legs. Your life expectancy is weeks at best, and that’s if you’re lucky.”

He holds up a second finger.

“In here you get fed. You’re warm, you may be bored, but you’re alive. Have we hurt you? No. Have we killed you? Also no. Notice a pattern yet? This is not a punishment. We are keeping you from causing trouble and getting yourself killed, which, given your track record, is a full-time job. One that your sister needs a break from worrying about.”

“Then what do you want?” Rowan asks, confused. “Everyone wants something.”

“Me? Nothing. I’m the innkeeper.” The Jester leans back and jerks a thumb at me. “Him, you could ask, but he won’t answer. If you want to know what’s keeping you breathing, I’ll tell you, because I’ve had time to work it out.”

He stands and wanders over to the bars and grips them.