The Immortal Circus (Cirque des Immortels)

“You,” she says. “You’re as bad Senchan. You try to take him. You cannot take him. I love him.”

I take a deep breath and wait for the flames to come. I wait for her to kill me, to burn the whole world down. But she doesn’t. Her head drops when she’s done talking and then she runs off, hiding somewhere out of sight.

“Well,” Penelope says. “That was...unexpected.”

Kingston stands and takes a half step forward.

“You knew,” Kingston says. “You knew how she felt about me. Why would you do that to her?”

“I was merely bringing her back to Mab,” Penelope says, holding her hands up in defense. “She had run off. Again.” She turns her gaze to me. “And I have enough on my hands keeping this one out of trouble. Which is clearly not working.”

“You’re a heartless bitch,” Kingston says. Then he runs off in the direction Lilith went, calling her name.

Penelope looks at me.

“You were supposed to be practicing,” she says.

“I was.”

She sighs. “You mustn’t let your emotions get the best of you,” she says. “In this world, show any sign of weakness, and it will be turned against you.”

“What are you talking about?”

She smiles one of her sad, lost smiles. “Let’s just say, for people like you and me, love, freedom, happiness…well, unless we’re very specific from the beginning, they just aren’t in the contract.”

She turns and begins walking away. But as she goes, I catch her mumble something. It sounds like for now.

I close my eyes and slide against the trailer. I can still taste Kingston’s kiss on my lips, can still feel the tingle of his fingers in my pulse. Underneath it, though, is an anticipation, a sort of fear. The way Mab paused, the catch in her words. The sudden rage. Someone’s been messing with my contract.

Someone is targeting me.

EPISODE FIVE

Chapter Sixteen: Monster

It’s dinner time when Kingston comes and finds me again.

I’m in my trailer, reading a book and trying not to think of everything that happened that afternoon, which isn’t really working because now that I know my memory’s been tampered with, that’s all I can think about. How much did Kingston hide from me, and why the hell did I want it hidden in the first place? Why the false memories? Why the grand illusion? And, perhaps most importantly, what landed me here to begin with? I try to think back and am met with only haze and grey and patchwork moments that could have been pulled from anyone’s life: walking to school, watching movies with friends whose names I can’t remember, eating dinner with my mom whose voice I can’t hear. Nothing remarkable. Nothing that would put blood on my hands and visions in my head. Nothing spectacular. What was I?

The worst part was, every time I closed my eyes, those weren’t the only thoughts coursing through my mind. Every blink, every moment of darkness, and I felt his lips on mine, tasted the cinnamon of his tongue and felt the heat of his breath. Every blink, and I was back, crushed against his chest. Every blink, and I wished it would have lasted longer.

But that was the trouble. It was just a moment. Moments were easy to erase or change. How long would he let me keep this before he turned around and blanked it out? A large part of me didn’t want to trust him, wanted to be pissed at him for toying with my past. But the rest of me knew. I had asked for that. I’d signed the contract. It was the things I hadn’t asked for that sent me reeling, the things he could take away at any moment. How long did I have before he got tired of me and made me believe I was tired of him? I kept closing my eyes, reliving the moment over and over, waiting for the inevitable shoe to drop.

So when Kingston knocks and lets himself in, it’s almost a relief, almost like stepping up to the executioner’s block. I know what he’s going to say. And I’m not going to wait around for it.

“Kingston, listen,” I say, “about today — ”

“Not now,” he says, walking past where I’m sitting on the bed to stare out the window. Then he steps back and closes the curtain. “They’re back.” There’s panic in his voice that makes my skin go cold. Everything I wanted to say drains in an instant.

“Who?”

“The troupe,” he says. It’s almost a relief. We’re not under attack by the Summer Court or anything horrible. Just the troupe back from the watering hole.

“Oh.”

He must note my relief, because his hands clench at his sides and when he speaks, there’s more anger than before.

“No, not oh. They’re back. But Melody’s not with them.”

“Maybe she got lucky?” I start, but this clearly isn’t the time for jokes. “Come on, Kingston, she’s not a kid.”

“No, she’s not. She knows not to leave the troupe.” He’s pacing back and forth. “This is bad, this is really, really bad.”

“Why? She can take care of herself.”

Then he stops and takes a deep breath. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,” he whispers. He turns to face me.

“Melody’s not like us. Remember when I said she was human? Well, it’s more than that. She doesn’t have the same immortality clause that we do, and she’s only twenty-two. Like, actually twenty-two. And without her, we’re all fucked.”

“What are you talking about?” I say.

“I can’t explain,” Kingston says. “Contractual obligation.” He runs his hands around his neck, as though the very thought of telling me is choking him — a feeling I know all too well.

“So let’s go find her,” I say.

“We can’t,” he says. “We have no idea where she is and no way to find out. And if we tell Mab, she’ll go after her herself.”

He slouches down on the chair.

“Would you just tell me what’s going on?” I say. “Why is it a bad thing if Mab looks for her?”

He makes a noise that sounds like gagging and shakes his head, looking up at me with a sad grin.

“Damn these contracts,” he says. “Don’t you see? This is precisely what they want.”

“Who?” I’m getting tired of this cat and mouse game of information.

“The Summer Court. They took her. They must have. I can’t tell you why, but I know they did. And you’re one of the few who understands the danger.”

“I do?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “You saw it. You saw Lilith on the field, you saw her kill Senchan and the other Summer Fey. One of them must have escaped and told their king. They know about Lilith. They know what she is. The Blood Autumn Treaty is broken. Now, we’re at war.”

“Why would they care about Lilith? She’s just…” But I can’t finish the sentence because she’s clearly not just a little girl.

“Do you remember Sheena?” he asks.

I nod. It’s hard to forget watching a purple-haired girl turn into a floating orb of light.