Althacazur rolled his eyes. “No one is asking you to kill anyone. If you succeed, you’ll vanquish Esmé—who should be dead anyway, so we don’t need the charm anymore. Although I admit, the idea of you as my human patron is almost unbearable to me now. And I thought Plutard was bad.”

“If you’re the human patron, you won’t be able to leave the circus.” Cecile shook her head. “Ever. Once Madame Plutard agreed, she could never leave. She was bound to it.”

Lara didn’t care. Her choice was between certain death or this circus. This was the only shot she had to avenge Todd. “Can I ask you for one thing?”

“Sure.” Althacazur spoke, but she’d meant the question for Cecile.

“Can I ride the carousel one last time?” Lara needed to clarify. “Before we do it.”

Cecile understood Lara immediately.

“Of course.”

Lara walked out of the main doors through the Grand Promenade, Tisdale following closely behind. She considered that if she succeeded, she would become the human patron of this place. It was like an otherworldly château mixed with a little Las Vegas. As she passed each room and attraction, she studied the ornate baroque walls. Outside the windows, amid the elaborate hedges, she saw clowns playing croquet and drinking tea from china cups. When they arrived at the carousel, she mounted the same horse as before and Tisdale pulled the lever. “Don’t let me go poof, Tisdale.”

The monkey nodded.

As the carousel went backward and the horse shook its head, Lara leaned into its mane and closed her eyes. She had one last moment alone with her own thoughts—quite possibly the last time she would be her.

The memories began immediately, starting with dancing with Ben at the gala. She felt his heat and the sense of safety he always brought with him as he pressed against her; then him laughing at Delilah’s, his overly starched sleeves. In front of her, the image of Ben morphed—almost melted into Todd. It was here that Lara stopped and tried to slow things down. She held his face. This was a memory—a true one—but she had the ability to alter it.

Before her was the final image of him. Lara was in her car. This was the moment that had haunted her—the moment when she’d failed to catch a last look at him. What she did next, she had not done in real life: Lara turned her head back to the house to see Todd standing in his driveway. The knowledge of what would come next for both of them in the world sent her body heaving into heavy sobs. “Todd,” she said, but he never heard her. Instead he turned and walked to the house, hands in his pockets. Like her, he never realized the significance of the moment. He would be dead in twelve hours.