Page 14 of House of Clowns

But my thoughts vanished, plucked back into the bog of panic.

"Where... where's Carlo?" I managed to whisper, barely audible.

"I spoke with my boss," he assured, his tone low and soothing. "He will deal with that tonight. For now… you need to rest."

As he stood to leave, he paused, something almost forgotten glimmering in his eyes.

"Oh, wait," he murmured, reaching into his jacket. "I almost forgot this." He handed me a worn and familiar notebook. His fingers lingered for just a second, meeting mine before he let go.

I clutched it, the weight of it grounding me, and whispered, "Thank you."

The response was to light up with a warm smile, brief but real, as he stepped to the door. "See you later."

The door latched shut, and I was left to the dim room alone, its silence almost comforting and company enough. The notebook lay serene against my lap, waiting. I opened it, holding a shaky breath. Two tarot cards slipped free instantly and floated down to lie in my lap face-up:DeathandThe Lovers.

My breath caught. For a wild moment, I could almost feel my grandmother's presence, her sly smile, the way she always seemed to know more than she let on. And those cards had such a comfortable feel to them... her, like a whisper.

I turned back to the notebook in my hands. And there, just beneath it, words sprang off the page—as if waiting for me all this time:"Tarot tells the truths we often don't dare to tell ourselves."

A quiet smile pulled at my lips as this reminded me of Grandma. Grandma knew how I liked those cards. She knew somehow that one day I was going to find where I belonged. I pushed another page, feeling the worn paper under my fingers,and there it was—a letter tucked between the pages, its date from some years after my mother disappeared.

Rocco,

Hope this letter finds you in the best of health and spirits.

I know that I made a big mistake leaving you there; that is my only regret. But I do know we will meet again someday.

I now have three beautiful children who depend on me. When they grow older, someday, I will tell them stories about us. I will tell them that you were the one who saved me from falling apart. Vincenzo doesn't understand much yet—even that Chiara does not belong to him. He does know that I was in the Circle and that I had to run from there, but since he discovered this fact, he has changed. It's as if he resented me for it. But I'm good at playing along. The kids don't even suspect a thing. I never loved him, Rocco. You were the only one I ever did.

But if you feel by the end as I do now, meet me at the maze on the night the House of Clowns hosts its ninth performance in the year 2022. I'll be waiting.

Love,

Arianne

My fingers drifted to my lips, tracing the breathless silence that had fallen over me. I grasped the notebook in my hands, its pages dog-eared and faded from touch, a person I would never know yet who, in another important way, had always been a part of me. Though I had assumed this belonged to my mother, it was his—it was my real father's.

The pieces fell into place, but they also shattered just that easily.Who am I?Not my mother, who sought to shield us behind walls that broke far too easily. Not my father, a shadow who was lost even before I could have known him. I was just…me.But the bruises, the raised voices, the ache in my bones—those were whispers of her battles. She hadn't left us; she'd fought for us in ways I was only now beginning to understand.

And when she did make that final decision, she left out of love—or maybe because she didn't have any other choice.

But in this stranger's bed, the man who pulled me from the ruins of that home was the first time I'd known a different sensation—safety. A warm peace around the pieces of me that had been so sharp and fractured for so long. And then I knew why she did it. She had to, even if she had to let us go; I understood her choice.

Now, finally, the cards made sense.Lovewas a double-edged promise that could pull you under into the depths to leave you buried in darkness, or it could mark another kind of ending—a different kind of end at a new beginning. It would depend upon my choice: allow love to take me under, or let it be a spark to ignite something I'd mold just the way I wanted.

ELEVEN

JOKER

The knock at Rocco's office door came out with too much force against the silence, and I felt the tension ripple through my fingers. I'd never asked for anything before, not like this. I'd just kept my head down and worked harder than anyone else, ignoring every muttered insult and sidelong glance that painted me asa freak.

"Come in," Rocco's voice boomed from the other side, all rough and impatient.

I eased the door open and stepped inside. His office was darker than the hall, illuminated only by a few dim, amber lights that barely cut through the gloom. Rocco slouched over his desk, one arm wrapped around the bottle of rum like it was his only lifeline. Papers lay strewn across the table; a few glass ornaments lay shattered on the floor, shards glinting in the faint light.

Without raising his head, he mumbled back, "What do you want?"

"I… remember when you said we needed more people?" I ventured, choosing every word with caution.

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