Disclaimer: Tom and the world of Harry Potter are the property of J. K. Rowling. Cora, Joseph and the Majestic Circus belong to me. No money is being made from this story and no copyright infringements were intended in its creation.

Thanks: Sachita (By all means, get as philosophical as you wish. I always enjoy your insight. As for Cora fainting, well, that is the mystery. She was seeming a little untouchable lately and it's time to even the playing field), Sariniste (I am so glad you are enjoying it. You had quite a lot of predictions...one dead on! I hope you like where this goes.), poetintraining576 (Thank you for reading! I am so glad how you write Tom-he's a tricky sucker! I find I rewrite most of his thoughts and dialogue, sometimes three or four times because he's so hard to nail down. Maybe that's why we're all so enamored with him), anonjune, paimpoint, fashiongoddess101 (Thanks for reading! I am so glad you are enjoying it!), Quoththeravennevermore (You make perfect sense! I love heaping misery upon my poor, helpless characters), and Lord Toewart (Awesome name! Thank you for reading and for your kind words. I've begun reading some of the Fictionist's work, and you are right! Wonderful! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. I also love Sachita's Tom and Iviscrit's slightly more irreverent Tom, both of whom I highly recommend).

The Illusionist's Daughter

Chapter Seventeen

Endless Night

Liverpool, July 1945

"One more time," Frank called from the back of the dark big top. "You can do this, Cora."

Cora frowned and narrowed her eyes, concentrating hard enough to form beads of sweat on her forehead. She saw the beat-up bowler hat on her father's head in her mind's eye, saw every detail of it. Pushing hard, she gritted her teeth, ready for the wave of dizziness to send her toppling to the ground.

"Bravo!" He shouted, holding a disgruntled and mangy alley cat over his head. "You changed it! How do you feel?"

Cora rubbed the back of her neck and frowned deeper. "I feel alright, I guess," she groused as she stomped over to the stands where her father stood holding the feline up in triumph. The cat swiped at his hand and with a yelp, Frank let it go. It darted into the dark shadows. "It was supposed to be a bear, though."

Frank examined the scratch on his hand. "Glad it wasn't," he said with a chuckle. "You're getting much better. Shall we try again? Perhaps another trick since my hat seems to have run away..."

Still rubbing her neck, she rolled her head, stretching her back. "What did you have in mind?" she asked unenthusiastically.

"Something gentler perhaps? You've already tried bears, tigers and a lightning strike." Frank clasped his hands behind his back and stared evenly back at his daughter. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say my darling daughter was trying to do me harm."

"Just trying to get my powers back," she retorted distantly, examining her nails. "If you get a little maimed in the process, that's just a bonus." Cora turned back to the center ring. "Take off your tie," she called over her shoulder. "Let's try something harder. I don't want to be your assistant forever, you know."

Frank opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again and reached for his tie. Loosening the knot he watched Cora carefully. The past month had been harder than most and she insisted on making it more difficult still. He pulled the tie from his collar and held it aloft by two fingers, fighting the urge to wince.

Cora reached her hand out for it, concentrating as she stared intently at the tie hanging several yards away. Her face reddened at the strain. She closed her eyes and pushed harder than she'd dared before.

"Damn it, Cora," Frank howled as the silk tie disintegrated into a cloud of black wasps, buzzing angrily around him. He swatted them, cursing and stamping his feet. Cora opened her eyes and breathed an enormous sigh of relief, smiling. The wasps swiftly changed direction and flew in a single dark mass toward her hand where they reformed the shape of the silk tie. As the last wasp wriggled into place the swarm shimmered and solidified into a unified, smooth surface. The swarm was once again an ordinary tie, one that had seen better days.

Cora laughed loudly, a laugh that was more cruel than joyful.

Frank inspected his hands with a scowl but did not find a single mark. "You've become quite miserable company, you know."

Cora snorted. "You've been miserable company for years, Frank. Stop your bellyaching."

"I am trying to help you," Frank said, making an effort to keep his voice level. "Can't you see that?"

"Well, it's not working!" Cora bellowed, throwing her hands in the air. "I can do magic here, with you. It's hard, but I can manage it. But when I perform...nothing! Can't you understand how frustrating that is?"

Frank rubbed a hand across his face. "We'll keep at it and we'll figure it out. There must be something that's different. Something you do or something you have when we practice that you don't when we perform. Can you think of anything you do differently?"

Cora's shoulders sagged and she shook her head dully. "I can't think of a thing."

"Well," Frank said, sharing her defeated moment, "there's got to be something. It'll come to us. Patience is all we need." Frank rested a hand on her shoulder but she shook it off and walked out of the tent. "You can't keep pushing everyone away, Cora!" he yelled after her as she shoved her way thorugh the canvas, leaving him standing in the dim, cool shadows alone.

Cora stomped her way back to her boxcar, seething with anger and frustration. Pullling the door open, she hoisted herself into the darkness and closed the door behind herself. In the darkness, she slowed her movements, forcing calm over herself. She had been taking more and more joy in being solitary, the boxcar that had seemed so lonely to her since her roomates had gone was now her only refuge. She relished the darkness and quiet.

Touching a finger to the cold candle on the upturned wooden crate that served as her dressing table, she had a moment of sickening worry that it would not light. She breathed a sigh of relief as the candle sputtered to life at her command and watched the warm glow chase a small circle of shadows away. Cora sat in front of it, sagging against the table.

Reaching under the crate, Cora retrieved the old, battered cigar box that held her few treasures. There was a girl on the box, smiling as an unseen boy handed her flowers. Only the boy's hand was visible, but the expression on the girl's face told Cora everything she wanted to know about him. She placed a hand on the lid and smoothed over the worn picture, thinking of a boy who had, long ago, given her a flower. Slowly, she lifted the lid.

Pushing aside a stack of letters bound together with a bit of twine, she lifted the very same flower to examine it. The petals had begun to wrinkle at last and the color had long faded from the deepest, richest red to a sickly purplish black. The magic had slowly faded from the day he'd given it to her. It was nearly gone.

Carefully she tucked it back into a corner, careful to smooth the petals back. Next she slipped the gold chain from the box, marveling at the way the candelight sent red sparks throught the room as it winked through the ruby. She tucked it away most days when she practiced to keep it from losing its luster. But every night she put it back on, needing the physical connection to him. Cora watched her reflection in the mirror change as she fastened the gem around her pale throat, amazed still at the transformation. Before, she was an ordinary girl in her workaday clothing, plain and dull. After, she was something to be noticed, something special. That is what the gem announced, she decided. That she was special to someone.

She ran a finger over the stone thoughtfully before unfolding the letter, lying unbound next to the stack of others. Dropping her eyes reluctantly to the page, she ran her gaze over the words obsessively. In truth, she no longer needed to see the letter, for she could recite it by heart now. It arrived five days ago.

Cora felt her breath catch in her chest and her heart constrict just as painfully as when she'd first read it. The words were so angry and hurt. She had hurt her Tom. Cora dropped the letter and stared at the cracked mirror once more.

The month he'd given her to figure things out had come to an end. But she'd found no answers in that allotted time, only more questions. Her powers had become weakened and erratic, if she had any at all. The Baron was harder on her than ever, bullying her mercilessly to fix whatever the problem was. Frank was intollerable. Cora was used to dealing with the old Frank, but the new Frank was a different dilemma altogether. Most days Cora found herself wishing he would get lost in a bottle and leave her alone. Then there was Joseph.

Cora relayed most of this to Tom and his response had been decisive. Choose.

Cora rubbed the gem at her throat as if it was a talisman that would somehow protect her from the harsh realities of her life, hoping in vain it would give her the words to say. She'd been too cowardly to reply to Tom's letter. The choice was not as simple as yes or no, black or white. There was no right and wrong that she could discern.

Swallowing hard, she tried to imagine a life without Tom. It was agony. But when she tried it in reverse, to imagine a life in which there was no Frank, no Joseph, it was as if a peice of her was missing too.

Cora shoved back from the table roughly, nearly upending the crate and the objects on it. She pushed the letter and the choice she was afraid of out of her mind. Finding her costume, she changed into her sparkles and spangles, mentally preparing herself for the disappointment of another night of failed tricks and pantomiming magic at her father's side.

The act was going well, but yet again Cora's magic was weak and made her feel sick. Like any other night, she and Frank fell back on the familiarity of their old routine. The illusions were old hat and she could do them easily, but the note of falseness left her bitter. She hated pretending at something that used to set her apart, made her special.

As they took their bow to steady applause, decent but certainly less enthusiasic than she'd become accustom to in her solo act, she saw him in the crowd. The sight of him made her freeze. He gave her an impish, crafty grin that didn't reach his eyes which were trained, unblinking and intense, upon her.

Cora recovered and flashed him a dazzling smile, before turning to leave the ring. Her heart was battering her chest like a bird frantic to escape its cage. Was he crazy? She had warned Tom many times of the Baron's threat. Tom couldn't be spotted here. Her mind raced wildly and she couldn't think straight.

"Cora," her father was calling to her. "Time for the finale, get in your place."

As Cora trotted over to him, taking her place in the long line of acts waiting for their last chance to dazzle, she fought to steady her heart.

Frank frowned at her pale appearance. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," she answered stupidly, attempting to peer around Ruby and her pair of horses into the crowd. She could not see Tom, though, the fold of the tent's flap blocking her view. She would have to wait until she was out under the big top once more. Perhaps she could even slip away to find him.

Ruby stood on the backs of her horses, Buttermilk and Lightning, one foot on each, waving to the crowd one last time, soaking in the applause. Cora followed with a fake smile plastered across her face, her eyes roving wildly over the crowd. She could not see him any longer.

Frank waved cheerily and made a hankerchief disappear. As he winked and charmed the crowd, he spared her a displeased look, silently communicating to her to get back in the game. Cora raised a hand half heartedly to wave, but continued searching the crowd.

Ahead there was a whinny and a scream from the horses and Cora snapped her head in Ruby's direction just in time to see her fall to the ground. Lightning was pawing at the air, ferociously swiping with his powerful hooves. Buttermilk bucked and skittered backward. Cora stood right behind the horse's flanks, frozen with fright. Frank yanked her out of the way of the terrified horse just before it slammed its hooves forcefully into the dust where she'd been.

Frank held Cora close as Buttermilk wheeled on the crowd and aimed a crushing kick at the first row or two of spectators. The people scattered with barely a second to spare. The wood splintered with a crack like thunder. People were screaming and shoving for the exits or higher into the stand.

Peter struggled mightily with his whip to keep the lion in check as the crowd ran this way and that. Ellie reared up on her hind legs, but Joseph had scurried down the rope ladder from his perch above the maddness faster than a spider and had the giant elephant settled, waggling her ears in harmless aggitation.

Buttermilk kicked out again, connecting hard with the center pole of the tent and the red and white stripes quivered and swayed dangerously overhead, the rigging for the trapeze swinging wildly. The horse turned and raced off to the side of the tent where people were shoving their way outside. The sea of people parted as one and the mad animal raced off into the night.

"Stay here," Frank hissed at Cora and he carefully approached Lightning, catching his reigns and settling him with a gentle touch on his cheek.

Cora cast her gaze around the chaos in disbelief. Darla landed softly in the net, abandoning the trapeze swing when the center pole cracked threateningly. Joseph handed Ellie over to some of the men before racing out of the tent after Buttermilk. Ruby sat in the dust, clutching her ankle. Cora ran over to her and dropped to her knees.

"Are you okay?" she asked, carefully examining her leg.

Ruby shook her head. "No, you idiot. I just fell off of a horse!"

Cora rocked back and sat in the dust beside Ruby and gave her a withering look. "You're ankle looks bad, but you're lucky. You could have been killed! What happened?"

"I don't know," Ruby answered with uncertainty. "Everything was going along as usual. Something spooked them."

Cora nodded. "Let's get you up. Do you think you can walk?"

Ruby raised herself up and flopped dramatically back to the ground. "I don't think I can."

"Come on," Cora griped, hauling her up by her armpits, "You didn't even try." Cora slung Ruby's arm around her neck and supported most of Ruby's weight on her shoulders. "Wow, you're heavier than you look."

Ruby snorted. "Bitch."

"Cow," Cora laughd and Ruby winced, hobbling along through the tattered remnants of the night's show.

After depositing a grumbling Ruby in her bed with a bottle of gin Cora climbed defeatedly into her boxcar and closed the door. Cora seethed with frustration-she couldn't even heal a twisted ankle! Uselessness was not something she was used to and it stung her pride.

"Quite a night," came a voice from the shadows, causing Cora to jump like a startled cat.

Breathing a ragged sigh, it was a moment before Cora could speak. "You scared me," she chastised. "And you can't be here."

The candle on her dressing table flared to life and filled the room with a golden glow. Tom was standing close enough for her to reach out and touch. "Says who?" he asked, stepping closer. "You?"

Cora shook her head. "You know who I mean. It's dangerous, Tom."

"I'm not afraid of them, and you shouldn't be either," Tom said without concern and took another step forward, closing off any space between them. He raised a hand and touched the gem at her throat, a fond little smile playing on his lips. "I'm glad you still wear this, even if you've forgotten me."

"I haven't forgotten you," Cora said as she nestled against his chest. "It's just so...complicated. I wish you could understand."

Tom rested his chin against her forehead, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. "I will never understand, I think. They're only muggles. And we belong together. Simple as that. No complications necessary."

"Those muggles are my family," she said, pulling away to look in his eyes. "I can't abandon them, you know that."

Tom smiled against her hair. "They won't be around forever. Didn't you see what happened tonight?"

Cora pulled away again, a startled look on her face. "The finale?"

Tom smiled wider. "Did you like it? Exciting, I thought. Very innovative. And dangerous."

"Tom," Cora asked seriously, "You didn't have anything to do with that? Tell me you didn't."

With a wicked smile on his lips he pulled Cora into him once more. "Why would you think that?"

Cora sulked. With her act failing to draw in the crowd the circus was in trouble. Another accident like this would be the nail in the coffin. "People want to watch performers defy death, not the other way around. We'll be done for."

The smile on Tom's face grew. "And you would be sad? Tell me you're joking, Cora! This is exactly what we want. Without the circus you will be free."

A deep frown etched lines across her forehead. Tom kissed the furrows and felt them smooth under his touch. Cora relaxed in his arms. "You could be free now. Come away with me tonight. Right now."

Cora felt her heart flutter at his words. Still, the thought of leaving terrified her. It was so hard to tell exactly what she wanted anymore. Her insides were in a constant turmoil these days, a storm building within her.

A low rumble shook the boards beneath their feet and Cora jumped in his arms. Together their heads swiveled to the open door where a breeze swirled the sticky air beyond. The sky was black and devoid of stars. A dim flash warned of a storm in the distance.

"I have to go," Tom said gently, removing her arms from his waist. He stepped back from her to the open door.

Cora let her empty arms fall to her side as she watched Tom numbly. "When will you be back?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "I can't say. But Cora," he whispered as he stepped through the door onto the rusted metal steps, "don't worry. Things have a funny way of working in my favor. We'll be together soon."

Cora felt her chin bob up and down as she nodded acknowledgement, but the action did not feel true, but as if she were a marionette and someone else was directing her movements. What did feel true was the dull throb in her hollow chest as she watched him disappear.

For a few moments or a few hours, she wasn't certain, she stood on that spot and watched the sky blankly, the clouds black against a night sky that was blacker still. Summer lightning flashed dimly at first but more briliantly as the storm approached. The thunder was no longer the low rumble of a drum, but the loud and jarring crash of a cymbal.

She watched as the first fat drops of rain darkened the wide pine planks of the floor. One, two, three, then a quick succession flung through the door on a high wind. As a gust blew rain against her face, it brought with it the sound of a horse's whinny, wild and frightened.

Pulling herself from the spot, Cora flung her worn out old coat over her sparkled and spangled costume and shoved through the door. She jumped from the train car and pulled the coat up over her head as the rain pelted her, hard and heavy as stones. A quick glance around revealed nothing and no one in the storm and she was about to convince herself that she'd imagined the horse's cry.

There it was again, behind her. She spun into the driving rain and splashed forward a few yards, her shoes slopping in the dirt, the rain churning it quickly to thick mud. Lightning flashed again, casting a harsh white glow on the entire landscape and causing Cora to squeeze her eyes shut.

She stumbled further. Now, out beyond the boundary of the circus, she was well beyond the train yard and the billowing tents, their flags thrashing furiously in the wind. Soon they were small, shuddering red and white striped mountains in the distance. Cora continued to follow the noise until the circus had disappeared completely behind her.

Mud covered Cora's legs up to her knees as she splashed through puddle after puddle and waded small streams of runoff rolling down the meadows, her dainty black satin shoes ruined beneath the thick sludge. Her hair dripped in slippery locks, sticking to her face and neck. The coat she held over her head and shoulders clung to her back now, sopping and heavy with water. And the rain continued to pour.

Cora stopped to listen, unsure she was still heading in the right direction. Beyond the loud rushing of the rain and the cracks of thunder, Cora could hear little else. She ducked under a low oak tree, but even its spreading umbrella of branches offered little protection from the torrent. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and blinked away the water, surprised to find that she was breathing heavily.

Cora spun around and around, looking for any sign to follow. Past the wide trunk of the tree, a wooden fence ambled down a steep hill and over the next rise. Even in the lightning flashes she couldn't see how far it went. But she did see the broken rails laying in the drenched grass, the ground leading up to and away from the fence churned and torn by great galloping hooves.

Shoving away from the scant shelter of the tree, Cora tugged herself up and over the remains of the fence, following the deep gouges in the earth. A horse, frightened and fleeing something, broke through this fence not long ago. Cora quickened her pace, hoping to find her, hoping it was Buttermilk.

The ground, now a river of slop, began to slope away from the tree where she'd come, and she struggled to keep her feet under her. A few times she slipped and slid several yards down the hill, water rushing into her coat, soaking her thin costume. Every time, she pushed her feet stubbornly under her and continued onward.

Lightning lit up the horizon once again and Cora did not shut her eyes to the brutal light, but used it to scope out her whereabouts. The hill ended at a little pond that was quickly growing into a lake with all the rainwater pouring down the hill. A dilapidated barn leaned on one great stone wall, the other tumbled down and barely holding the sagging roof aloft. Connecting the barn and the pond and separating it from the pasture where Cora stood was a post and barbed wire fence.

And struggling mightily agains the fence was Buttermilk. The horse, illuminated starkly white with every flash of lightning, was thrashing and fighting against the fence. Cora broke into a reckless sprint.

She approached the horse carefully, cooing soft words to her. The barbed wire was tangled in her silky mane, cutting deeply into her neck. A coil had come loose from the post and wrapped around the horse's forelegs and ripped huge gashes as she kicked and bucked. Cora placed a steadying hand on the mare's rump, but Buttermilk kicked out frantically, pulling again at the wire around her neck.

Cora took a step back, helpless to free the horse. She took off her coat and threw it over the wire coil wrapping tighter around the horse's legs with each movement. Grabbing the wrapped up wire in her hands, she attempted to untangle it from the hoof closest to her. The horse screamed and stamped in the mud, sending thick splatters over Cora's face and neck.

"Hold still," Cora yelled as the wind snatched her words away. "I'm trying to help you!" She thought desperately for any trick she could do to settle the beast, but she could think of nothing, knowing that her magic was useless anyway. She gave a hard yank out of desperation and Buttermilk reared up high over Cora's head. The horse was about to pound her into the mud.

"Get out of there!" A voice shouted and strong hands pulled her out of the way just as the powerful bulk of the horse crashed into the ground where she'd been standing. Cora was tossed aside, landing with a loud squelch in the squishy mud a few feet away.

Blinking away the grime, Cora saw Joseph in the brief flashes of lightning yanking his shirt off over his arms and wraping it securely around Buttermilk's face, covering her eyes. The horse instantly calmed and stood still, knickering quietly as Joseph tied a secure knot below her chin. Joseph took a step back and assessed the mess of wire, mud and horse.

Without sparing her a glance, Joseph beckoned her with a hand impatiently. "Hold her head," he commanded and handed her the soggy knot that held the shirt over Buttermilk's face. "Whatever happens don't let her go."

Cora nodded to his back and held the horse's head firmly. Joseph bent low and ran a hand over the maze of wire cutting into the mare's legs. Kneelling in the mud, he began to slowly untwist the wire, carefully pulling the barbs from her skin. Once she bucked, nearly throwing Cora back into the mud, but Cora managed to hang on.

"That's one," Joseph said in releif as he pushed a thick coil of wire away from him. The horse stamped her free leg gratefully and pushed her soft nose into Cora's chest. Joseph grunted with the effort of freeing the other leg. The wire was wrapped so thickly around the last leg it looked like a black stocking mid way to her knee. He pulled and twisted but the wire was wrapped too tightly. Buttermilk pulled.

"Joseph!" Cora shrieked. The wire pulled tighter around the horse's neck every time she struggled. A large and angry gash dribbled red onto the horse's silky white coat. Joseph shook his head and rubbed his hand over his face, swiping water off with his fingertips.

Joseph snatched up Cora's coat from where it had fallen to the ground and wrapped it around the thickest tangle of wire at Buttermilk's neck. Grunting, he pulled, his face turning red with the effort. He braced his foot on the post and strained, the muscles in his arms and chest tight with tension. He bellowed in frustration and pulled one last time with all his strength. There was a metallic twang and the wire around Buttermilk's neck went slack.

The wire came free in Joseph's hand and he looked at Cora in a mixture of disbelief and relief. Buttermilk knickered weakly and Joseph turned his attention back to her, worry erasing every other expression. Buttermilk sank to her haunches, whining softly.

"Oh no," Cora whispered and Joseph ducked under the horse's long neck. Blood was pouring out of a wide gash in the perfect white flesh. Buttermilk slid to one side and Cora melted down to the ground along side of her, cradling the horse's head in her lap. She peeled the cloth off her eyes. Buttermilk blew out a final warm breath and closed her long white lashes.

Gently, she set the mare's head on the ground, laying her carefully on the sodden shirt. Rain pelted down all around them. Cora turned to Joseph. He stood still as a statue, staring blankly with dead eyes at the horse in the mud.

Cora reached out a hand and touched his sholder. The skin was cold to her touch but he was not shivering. "Come on," she urged gently, "we need to get out of the rain."

Looking around her, she remembered the remains of the old barn just a few hundred yards away. She tugged Joseph but he did not move. "Joseph," she called to him desperately but he would not budge. Finally, she gave up and sank to the mud next to him. "Fine," she said miserably, "then we'll both freeze."

He blinked and looked at her. With heavy movements he pulled himself up out of the mud and she took his hand, leading him toward the barn. Once inside it was clear that the barn was little better than standing under the full force of the deluge. The rafter timbers dripped constantly and lightning illuminated the many holes. Cora picked her way through mouldering straw and broken farming equipment to a relatively dry corner. With a resigned sigh Cora sat down in the hay and hugged her knees to her chest.

"I'm sorry." Cora didn't think Joseph had heard her. If he did, he gave no sign. He stood, dripping, staring at nothing, making no move. She didn't know what else to say so she stayed silent, resting her chin on her knees and focused on the puddle at her feet. Against her will her eyes strayed again and again to him.

Finally, as if freed from some sort of spell, Joseph broke his statue's stance. He swiped a hand across his dripping face and turned his back to Cora. "I don't understand what happened. She's never done anything like that before."

Cora shrugged but the gesture went unseen by Joseph. "Something must have spooked her and she ran."

Joseph shook his head and walked a few paces back toward the door. "Well look where that got her. She needed to escape so badly she couldn't see the danger that was right in front of her. Now she's dead."

Cora frowned. "She was afraid, Joseph. It's not your fault."

He kept pacing, aggitated and breathing hard now. The solid stone wall stopped his angry steps and he slammed a fist into it. "Is it really that hard to see, Cora?"

She jumped to her feet as he struck the wall. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. This was about something other than the dead horse. She ran to him and grabbed his elbow before he drove his fist into it once more. He tried to pull away from her but she held fast. Slowly she coaxed his fingers open and surveyed the damage.

"There are other ways," he said quietly now, his rage spent. Sagging against the rough stone, he finally turned to look at her face. She busied herself wiping the blood from his knuckles so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes. "It doesn't have to be the circus or him. You have other choices." He closed his fingers around hers, bringing her hand to his chest and laying it flat against the skin, covering it with his own. Cora was startled by the sudden heat that shot through her entire arm. In her mind, she knew she should take her hand away but she couldn't make her traitorous limb obey. "Don't run to him with your eyes shut so tight you can't see the danger in front of you."

"You don't know him," she whispered loyally, as if her words could erase the guilt over how Joseph's touch was making her feel.

Joseph frowned. "But there's something...I don't know...dangerous about him. He was there tonight, wasn't he? Did he do this?"

Cora opened her mouth to defend her Tom, to deny the accusation behind his last question, desperate to say something that would prove Joseph wrong, but the words would not come. She, too, had seen something in Tom tonight, remembering his words, the look on his face when he'd talked of the disaster at the circus. He relished the chaos. "I love him," she defended weakly, as if this declaration voided any and all of his faults.

"You love me, too." Joseph held her hand a little more firmly, stepped a little closer, daring her to deny it.

Cora shifted from foot to foot uneasily. The proper thing would be to let him down gently, to tell him that she did not love him. She loved Tom. But the feel of his skin, warm under her hand, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her fingers, would not let her deny it. She loved Joseph.

"You're my best friend," she offered. The words were a weak shaddow of what her heart was warring with her mind to confess.

Joseph leaned into her and she found herself drawn toward him irresistibly, like a magnet pulling her closer. "Choose me," he said, his lips inches from hers now.

"I'm going to marry him." The words, spoken so softly, knocked him back several inches as if she'd shoved him. He dropped her hand and she was suddenly aware of the distance between them. "Joseph..." she pleaded with him as he backed away from her.

He stared at her, his eyes blank with shock, his face unreadable.

"Please," she cried. "Say something, don't just walk away from me."

He wiped both hands over his face and through his hair, pushing it back from his eyes as if struggling to wake from a nightmare. "I thought I had more time," he breathed to himself, letting his head fall to his chest. When he finally looked up and met her stare, his dark eyes were focused and intense with determination. "I'm not giving up on us, Cora. I'm going to fight with everything I've got until I change your mind."