Chapter Seven
Cave
What cannot be stolen, only surrendered?
What turns mercy into punishment and love into a cage?
What belongs to her, even when she does not know it?
Valli gets ready for work as I sit on the edge of the new bed and watch her. She got up before the sun and has changed her shirt twice. She keeps talking to herself, mumbling under her breath. Noa made her breakfast, and Cipher gave her a staff radio.
Now she stands in front of the mirror and fixes her hair.
She is anxious, but has no reason to be; I know she will do great.
Nobody has ever told her she does well simply by existing.
I would tell her, but so many words would come out wrong.
Instead, I take the small thing I made out of my pocket and hand it to her.
She smiles at the star woven from corn husks, small enough to hide in her fist. It took me four tries to get it right; my hands are better at breaking things than creating.
“Is this so I can take a part of you with me?” I nod and she smiles. “Walk with me.”
She never needs to ask; I was always going to go with her. But I think she asks because it’s always nice to be chosen.
The morning is the best part of the day on the island, when staff are getting everything ready but the gates are not yet open to guests. Not that I think Nixie will let me take part for a while.
That man shouldn’t have come into the cornfield. But he didn’t heed the warnings; no one is allowed in my field again until she is ready to come back in.
Gerald crosses the path ahead of us with a rabbit under each arm.
Valli rushes to him, crooning as she takes one of the rabbits and pulls it to her chest. I don’t understand why people use baby talk with pets—it makes no sense.
I’m sure they probably don’t even understand us; they simply see a huge person who looks ridiculous and sounds worse.
“Good luck today,” Gerald says as she passes him back the bunny. Its name is Stew, which I actually think is funny. Then Gerald continues on his way.
Staff watch us as we walk through each zone, probably because no one has ever seen me this much. Though I hate it when they stare, I want them to know she is mine, and if anyone as much as breathes wrong in her direction, they will have to face me.
Valli’s fingers are laced in mine. They’re small but fit perfectly.
“Okay,” she mutters as Nixie’s office comes into view. “She has a four-part coffee order, don’t write on the pink clipboard, listen because she won’t repeat herself. Did I miss anything?”
The office door opens before we reach it. “Right on time,” Nixie says. “I love punctuality in an employee. It’s the bare minimum, but you would be surprised how rare the bare minimum is.”
Valli lets go of my hand to step forward, but I don’t like letting her go. I never want to let her go, so I scowl at Nixie and glare. She narrows her eyes and then laughs.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, wiping under one eye. “That’s adorable. Are you threatening me?”
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.
“The night we brought you in, I asked him what we were going to do with you. Reasonable question, right? Logistics are my thing. This man looks at me and says, ‘I did not plant him, so I will not reap him. A weed and a flower share the same rain. Only her hands hold the end.’”
Rowan stares at him in silence.
“Yeah,” the Jester says. “That was me too. Took me two days and a whiteboard, but I got there in the end. Here’s the translation, so listen closely.” He leans into the bars. “The only person in this world who gets to kill you is your sister.”
Rowan laughs. “Valli won’t kill me.”
“Probably not, she seems lovely,” the Jester agrees. “But that’s the deal. Your life belongs to her now. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“You’re all insane.”
The Jester holds up a finger and silences Rowan.
“This is the fine print, so pay attention. The riddle covers killing. Nobody said one word about a little friendly torture between two strangers.” He smiles and the paint on his mouth stretches wider.
“And you and I, Rowan, are strangers. I was almost shot multiple times because of you. That cost me a good coat. I have been patient because the gentleman next door had seniority, but he is nearly through his rehabilitation program.” He glances at the far cell.
“And after that my schedule opens right up.”
Rowan backs up until he is sitting on his cot. I think he is finally realizing that no one is coming for him, and hopefully he is feeling a little of what he put his sister through over the years.
“Well, as fun and riveting as this is, my guest is due for a bath soon. I wouldn’t want him to die of an infection before he leaves us.”
I glance over at the corner of the room, to where a free-standing bathtub waits, filled with something, but I can only imagine it is not water in there. As much as I would love to stay and watch the show, I have to check on Valli and make sure Nixie is playing nice.
The Jester walks me out. “Same time Thursday,” he says. “Oh, and tell Cipher the camera on the back fence has a wasp nest situation. I’d handle it myself, but wasps freak me out.”
I nod and walk back the long way. Guests are now roaming the island, with their maps in hand and little excited children loose.
I pass Nixie’s office, and through the window I spot Valli at her desk.
She is writing something on a notepad, and her head tilts back as she laughs at something Nixie is saying.
The corn-husk star sits proudly on the corner of her desk.
She looks up and finds me staring through the window, and her whole face lights up.
I’m not used to anyone looking at me like that.
She presses her fingers to her lips and turns them toward me before going back to her list.
I walk to the cornfield, ready to make myself useful. I rip out the warning signs Noa put up and tear away the caution tape.
I am the Scarecrow, and keeping is what I do. Since meeting Valli, things have shifted, and everything I do is for her, even when she doesn’t know it. In the end, Rowan’s life is not mine to take. It will be her choice.