The Immortal Circus (Cirque des Immortels)

Kingston laughs but gives me an I told you so sort of look when she breaks into another cough. She's definitely getting worse. But even after our talk last night, I refuse to believe he can be responsible for it. Whatever it is.

“So,” Mel continues, oblivious to the shared look. “A juggler, eh? Frankly, I pinned you as more of an acrobat myself.”

“I’d rather not think about it,” I say. “I’ve never juggled in my life. Anyway, what the hell’s going on with you? Are you okay?”

She closes her eyes and the grin slips. “Nice diversion,” she says. “I’m fine.”

It would have been a convincing cover-up, if not for the hacking fit that immediately followed.

“Kingston?” I ask.

He sighs. “I don’t know. I can’t heal it, whatever it is.”

“I’m still here,” she says.

“I’m not saying anything you don’t already know,” he says. “Besides, Vivienne’s a friend. She deserves to know.”

And yeah, it’s sick in light of everything that’s happened in the last twenty minutes, but that statement makes me feel really, really good.

“Fine,” Mel says. “Yes, Vivienne. I appear to be quite ill, and our all-powerful witch can’t do anything about it. As you said, I’d rather not think about it.”

“I was going to talk to Mab,” Kingston says, half to me and half to Melody. “Whatever this is, it’s not normal. But I don’t know if she’s in the right mood to be confronted with another loophole.”

I sit down on the table and look back at the trailers. I wonder who’s going to gather up Roman's swords, and who’s going to take his place as head of the Shifters. I wonder if his blood will still be pooled on the ground when we go back.

“What do you think she’s going to do?” I ask. “I mean, clearly this isn’t a one-time thing. First Sabina, then Roman. If that Summer guy was telling the truth, we’re going to keep getting picked off one by one until the show falls apart.”

“I don’t even know,” Kingston says with a sigh. He runs his hands through his lank hair and looks out at the waves. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re already falling apart. All the Summer Court has to do is pull the right thread, and we’re done.”

“But they can’t, right? It’s Mab. You heard her. The show will go on.”

Melody answers, her words laced with bitterness. “Don’t gloss over the details, love. With or without the lot of you, she said. She’s only concerned with the show. I have no doubt that she’s willing to accept a few casualties if it means she can keep playing ringleader. Never stopped her before.”

She looks like she’s about to say more, but Kingston glares at her, which shuts her up instantly. No one says anything after that. It’s clear that she’s overstepped a line in the sand I’m not supposed to see. Apparently I don’t deserve to know everything. I can only hope that what I don’t know doesn’t get me killed.

* * *

As they promised, Richard and Vanessa find me at lunch that afternoon. I’m sitting across from Kingston while Melody rests in her trailer. I hadn’t said much to him during the meal. What was there to say? Sorry one of your friends died like one of Vlad Dracula’s victims, but hey, I hear you’re single so maybe we can go out to dinner sometime? By the way, what is it that you’re so obviously hiding from me, because I’m getting tired of waiting around, and I might be the next to go? There’s nothing to say, and the silence just grows and grows between us. Not that anyone else in the troupe is talkative. Today’s meal is even quieter than when Sabina was killed. So I just eat my salad and pasta primavera, and stare at Kingston’s left arm, where the head of his serpentine tattoo has suddenly taken up residence.

Vanessa spots me first. She sits down on my left side, setting her tray with a half-eaten salad and juice next to mine. The distraction is an immediate relief that I know won’t last long. She smiles at me, and I can’t tell if it’s friendly or laced with you-can-never-replace-him undertones. It makes me wonder if she and Paul ever had a thing in those ninety-two years of service.

“So,” she says, barely giving Kingston a second glance. “Do you actually know how to juggle?”

“Kind of,” I say. I try to think back, try to remember juggling oranges in my kitchen or something like that. The images are there, but they don’t seem to piece together quite right. It’s like looking through someone else’s childhood scrapbook. “I think so.”

“Don’t worry,” she says. “If we can’t train you, Kingston can always bewitch you into stardom.”

Kingston coughs slightly. “You know it doesn’t work like that, Vanessa,” he says over his mug.

Vanessa waves her hand, “Fine, fine, whatever it is you do, then. I’m just saying, with my skill and your magic, we’ll have no problem turning her into a young star.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. Okay, I know I probably couldn’t juggle if my life depended on it — and my life probably does depend on it — but I don’t think I’m that hopeless.

“I think it’s best if he explains,” Vanessa says. “I’d just get it wrong.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Kingston says evenly. “How about you just do your job and train her. When that inevitably fails, come find me.”

Vanessa opens her mouth, but Richard’s arrival spares us from whatever she’s about to say. He steps up behind her and puts his broad hands on her shoulders. He looks maybe ten years older than her; he’s probably in his late thirties. But when she looks up at him, her face instantly becomes all smiles. If that isn’t an I’m-sleeping- with-you look, I don’t know what is.

“Hey, guys,” he says. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Kingston replies.

“Good,” he says. “I was hoping I could steal Vanessa. We’re going to have to piece together a duo act for tonight.” He turns to me. “Unless you think you’ll be ready by then?” He grins.

I decide in that moment that if I had to choose to save either him or Vanessa from being eaten by sharks, I’d choose him. Neither of them act fazed by the fact that their partner was just aged to death in front of their eyes. Maybe Kingston was right; maybe everyone is only looking after their own asses.

“Only if you want it to be a clown act,” I say. I can no longer remember if it was juggling I was good at as a kid, or unicycling. Or maybe I’d just wanted to be able to do them.

He chuckles and helps Vanessa to her feet. They walk off, leaving me, Kingston, and Vanessa’s half-empty tray.

“Bitch,” Kingston says the moment she’s out of earshot.

“What was that all about?” I ask.

“She’s still pissed that I slept with Richard a few decades back. In my defense, they hadn’t been seeing each other for at least a year. Girl can hold a fucking grudge.”

My stomach does a flip and I can’t tell if it’s because he just admitted to sleeping with a guy or because he just said he’s at least a few decades old. Then again, after watching Paul turn to ash, the notion that Kingston is much older than he appears isn't as shocking as it should have been. My mouth is hanging open like a fish, which just brings a smile to his face.

“What? It gets boring here. You can’t blame me for playing both sides of the field.”

Which just makes me wonder how many people he has slept with. I mean, I can’t judge. Even though I can’t remember my sexual exploits — which doesn't speak very highly of them — I know I’m no virgin. But still…how many? I didn’t even really care about the genders.

“I…That’s not what I meant. What did she mean by that whole bewitching me to stardom thing?” I say.

“Oh.”

Kingston picks at the food on his plate, then looks up at me and points his fork at my face.

“How do I put this? You’ve seen The Matrix, right?”

“Sadly.” I’m not certain how that memory stands out, but it’s there, swimming in the haze of my past.

He smiles, but his voice is serious. “Well, it’s sort of like that. If necessary, I can…download, if you will, things into your memory. Make you know how to do things you couldn’t do before.”

“You what?”