Sofie wasn't really unconscious when the odd-looking man found her in the back of a Carnivale truck, but she gave a good performance.
Looking at him through half-closed eyelids, she thought, Who on earth is this? Is he a stowaway himself? She'd expected to be discovered by someone she knew, probably a roustie. And she'd hoped it wouldn't happen till she'd had more time alone with her thoughts.
She'd been upset, with good reason, throughout her drive in pursuit of the carnival. And it was only ten minutes ago that she'd caught up with it - stopped, mysteriously, in the middle of the road. She'd used her newly discovered powers to make her car and herself invisible, abandoned the car, and strolled past two conversing rousties to let herself into the last truck in the convoy. A neat solution to the problem of where she'd come from: she could claim she'd run after the truck and climbed aboard as it was leaving New Canaan, then passed out from exhaustion.
Opening her eyes a little wider, she studied the stranger. No, not a stowaway. He wore half a mustache, while the other side of his face was clean-shaven. That identified him as a "he-she," new to the troupe. Probably, in real life, a completely normal male.
"You all right, miss?" he was asking. "C'mon, wake up! What are you doin' here? Did you run away from that New Canaan place?"
"Oh!" She pretended to come to with a start. "Oh, please...help me! I did run away from New Canaan, but I belong here! My name is Sofie -"
"Sofie? Oh Jesus. Are you the fortune teller? The one who left Carnivale back before Damascus?"
"Y-yes. Please help me!" she pleaded. "I n-never should have gone to New Canaan...I made such a terrible mistake..."
"Everythin's gonna be okay," he assured her. "You're home now."
"No, no!" she wailed. "Nothing's okay! J-Jonesy...Jonesy's dead! He was killed...rescuing me...oh, I'm so ashamed!" She managed to produce the appropriate burst of tears.
"Jonesy's dead?" the man echoed. He was shaking now. "God, that's awful. I mean, we were afraid somethin' had happened to him, but I couldn't believe...oh, shit." He patted her awkwardly, trying to console her. "Look, you can't stay here. Come with me, an' I'll take you to our trailer...I mean, mine an' my wife's. My name's Bert, my wife is Sabina...c'mon, she'll take care o' you...you need to be with another woman!"
They were probably with Daily Brothers, Sofie realized. She'd been too caught up in her own problems to want any contact with the refugees the carnival had met that night.
That night...
How blind she'd been! Well, it was excusable then, because thanks to Apollonia, she hadn't even known what she was. But when she discovered the truth about her father, and then herself, she should have realized Ben Hawkins was another Being with supernatural powers. How else to explain her mother, Lodz, and Management having been so interested in him - and those strange Tarot readings?
Instead, she'd thought an ordinary young man had succeeded in killing Justin to avenge his father. She'd been caught completely by surprise by Justin's rant about his fellow "Prophet" and his special weapon.
I have to find out whether Ben's still alive.
"Th-thank you, Bert," she choked out between sobs. She let him put an arm around her and help her up. "I've made such a mess of things...trusted Brother Justin...but something was wrong, the men around him were thugs...killed Jonesy! Oh God, Jonesy!" She buried her face in Bert's shoulder.
"Easy now," he said kindly. "C'mon along to our trailer, an' Sabina can, uh, make you some tea."
"All right." She sniffled. "And...I didn't understand what was going on...but they took me hostage for some reason! And I'd run into Ben Hawkins in New Canaan...he said Brother Justin killed his father...and wanted to kill him...none of it makes any sense!" That brought her - finally - to the question she wanted to ask. "Is Ben all right?"
"Uh, I dunno." Bert was shaking his head. "A lot has happened since you left. You may not know - Hawkins is somethin' more than a normal roustie. He had a fight with Brother Justin. The last I heard, he was hurt bad, but still alive. But there's stuff goin' on that I don't understand, like the carnival bein' stopped here. Right now, it's anyone's guess."
"Oh, no," she whispered. "Not Ben...dear God, please don't let anything happen to Ben! Not on top of losing Jonesy. Please...we've suffered enough, we can't take any more!"
"Damn right," Bert said mournfully. "We can't."
Good, she told herself. He's buying my act. Everyone else should buy it, too. Even Ben, if he survives to hear it.
Someday, she supposed, she might regret having killed Jonesy...and the thousands of others she'd wiped out with a single venomous thought. But not now, not yet.
The revelation she'd received in that shed was that she possessed power. She didn't have to be a victim all her life. Didn't have to be persecuted or patronized or held prisoner - or for that matter, "rescued"! And oh yes, she'd enjoyed her first heady uses of that power...wielding it like a bludgeon against the man who'd spurned her apology and her love, against the less-than-men who'd stupidly given their allegiance to a demon. (Never mind that she'd done the same.)
The only emotion she felt now was hatred - of the father who'd spoiled her big moment, made her see herself as a powerless girl again.
During her headlong flight from him, she'd begun to wonder if he'd told her the truth. If he even knew the truth.
I had visions! Visions in which people looked at me and said, "Every Prophet in her House." Every Prophet, in her House...
Could it be that I already am, not a "Princess" in Justin Crowe's House, but Prophet of my own?
That I did have the strength required to kill him - held in my hands a "suitable" weapon, that scythe - and I let him convince me I couldn't do it?
Do I really need Ben Hawkins?
Whether or not she needed Ben, she envisioned him as her unwitting ally, not her enemy. She hoped he wasn't dead or dying.
But I can't use my powers to help him. And if he lives, I'll have to be on my guard constantly. He'll turn against me and seek to destroy me if he learns what I am, what I've done.
For that, she did - to her surprise - feel a twinge of regret.
In recent months, she'd come to value Ben as a friend. She hadn't attached much importance to their lovemaking on the road to Damascus; since he wasn't willing to leave the carnival with her, she'd viewed it as a farewell. But the friendship had been important. And now, while she'd still be seeing him, she could never be open and honest with him again.
As she let Bert lead her from the truck to his and Sabina's trailer, supporting and comforting her all the way, she realized some of her tears were real.