The Immortal Circus (Cirque des Immortels)

and even Kingston — though his eyes are dark with sleeplessness — is beaming. I look away from them and realize we’re no longer in the abandoned cornfield. We’re on a baseball pitch surrounded by pine trees, a lake in the distance.

“What happened?” I ask, because Mab still hasn’t given me a solid answer — just told me that in light of circumstances, she has changed my obligation from juggling to sideshow psychic. Consider it a promotion, she said, and sent me on my way.

Kingston shakes his head and looks at Mel.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Melody says.

We walk to the edge of the lake, none of us talking. It’s early afternoon, and there are families and dogs spread out across the beach. Kingston leads us to a spot away from the main crowd, taking off his shoes to wade out into the soft surf.

“Well?” I ask.

“Well,” Melody says. “Turns out I’m the tent.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What?”

She sighs. “I’m the bloody tent. That’s why I’m here, why Mab signed me on.”

I look to Kingston, thinking maybe she’d had some sort of mental injury after being kidnapped. “What is she talking about?”

“It’s her story,” he says, and puts a hand on her wrist.

“And I only just found out. Okay, well, you know how you don’t age?” she asks.

I nod.

“Yeah. Magic doesn’t just work like that. There’s a tithe; for many to be young, one must bear the burden of age. The same works for immortality. In order for everyone to remain immortal, someone has to die. The only catch is that that someone has to remain with the tent at all times, otherwise the tithe is broken.”

“And that someone’s you,” I whisper. I don’t look at her; I’m watching Kingston, at the way he's staring at her with that sad, protective look in his eyes.

“Yep,” Mel says. “No superpowers for this lesbian. I just get to grow old and watch you all stay young. But hey, so long as I’m healthy and near the tent, you all are safe and immortal, so I guess it works out.”

Suddenly, I understand: her illness whenever the tent or performers were hurt, the reason Penelope needed to get her out of the way. If Melody was gone, the tent became vulnerable — everyone became vulnerable. Penelope had sworn she was saving Mel by having her taken away, that she hadn't altered her contract. By severing the bond between Mel and the tent, she had in the process spared my friend's life. Penelope hadn't been as full of shit as I'd thought.

“That’s horrible,” I say. It's really all there is to say.

She shrugs and looks out over the water. “That’s the contract. Apparently, it’s a genetic thing, nothing magical at all. Kingston found me when I was born and brought me here. I was raised in the circus, and I’ll die in the circus. Thankfully, though, I don’t have to remember that if I don’t want to. I can believe I’ve been whatever age I am for eternity.” She turns to Kingston, but he doesn’t flinch. He just wraps his fingers around her hand and drops his head. Now I know why he felt so responsible for her; he was going to have to watch her die. And he would have to keep changing her memory so she would have no clue.

“Your mom would have been proud of you,” Kingston says. “She was an amazing woman.”

I can’t even begin to imagine what sort of mother would allow that to happen to her kid. That said, I can’t imagine what my own mom would have done to make me leave and run away to join this place. Whatever it was, I’m almost glad Kingston erased the memory of it.

We don’t say anything for a while after that.

Finally, I whisper.

“What happens now?”

“You know Mab,” Kingston says. “She’s already signed on a new cast to make up for those we lost in the fire. The next show’s in four days.”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” he says, with more emphasis in his words than is necessary. “The freak tent fire. We lost half the troop. Thank the gods Mel was away, or we'd have lost her too.”

I open my mouth to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, because it wasn’t a fire that killed everyone, it was Oberos and Lilith and — But his glare stops me short. He knows. We are the few who remember, Mab said. Kingston, Mab, and I. We are the only ones who know what really happened. Every other survivor had their memory wiped by Kingston. I wonder if they tried to erase mine again. I wonder if there’s a reason it keeps failing. Keeping track of all these secrets is going to be impossible.

“Right,” I say instead.

“You should see the new tent,” Melody says, either completely missing or deliberately ignoring the look that Kingston gives me. “It’s gorgeous. Much sexier than the old one.”

“It suits you,” Kingston says with a small grin. I try to smile as well, but I can’t share the amusement. I don’t know how Kingston does it, remembering it all. Every time I close my eyes, I see and hear and smell the chaos of battle. If it weren’t for sheer stubbornness, I’d ask him to make me forget. Or, at least, try.

* * *

The pie cart that night is bustling with faces I’ve never seen. There are a few people close to my age and some older men and women. Everyone’s talking loudly, everyone’s excited for their new acts and new costumes. It will be an entirely new show, Kingston explains to me at the table. Everything’s going to be different. I can't help but stare at them all and wonder what sort of bind caught them in Mab's well-manicured clutches. Did everyone here have blood on their hands? Or were there darker secrets hidden behind those smiles?

I nearly jump out of my skin when Lilith sits down beside me bearing a tray heaped with macaroni and cheese. She looks just like she always did — blue porcelain-doll dress, black hair in ringlets, smooth face. Only no cat. She looks naked without Poe. I wonder if she even remembers she had a cat. I decide I’m not about to ask. She smiles at me and cocks her head to the side.

“You okay?” she says. “Jumpy jumpy Vivienne.”

I try to laugh and take a deep breath to keep from screaming. I go about eating my food, but find my appetite is gone with her around. I keep imagining the way she burned Penelope without so much as a pause, the way she lit the whole world aflame. All through dinner I wait for her to turn on me, wait for her features to break apart and reveal a monster of brimstone and sulfur, but it doesn’t happen. She keeps to herself and eats almost everything on her plate and shapes the rest into a smiley face, then gets up and wanders off, leaving the tray behind.

“Odd one, her,” says one of the new girls sitting across from us. She’s got curly brown hair and a scar near her left eye, but her smile is bright.

“You have no idea,” I say, and reach out a hand to introduce myself. She shakes it.

“Sara,” she says. “Pleasure to meet you.”

She goes on to tell me about her training as an aerialist, her tours of New England and the Midwest, but I can’t follow. She reminds me of someone, and the thought makes my stomach churn.

Kingston sits next to me later on, when some of the troupe has wandered off to the beach. Melody and Sara are chatting on the other side of the table, the new girl leaning in just a little closer than socially acceptable for a first chat. Kingston seems amused by this as he slides his hand in mine.

“About earlier,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“For kissing me, or for kissing Lilith?” The rest of my memories might be a tumble of fire and screaming, but those two stand out clear and strong.

“You know I just did that so she’d help us.”

I look away. “Turned out well.”

He puts his hand on my cheek and makes me look at him. He smiles, a little sad.

“Witches don’t apologize very often, V,” he says. “Don’t make me regret it.”

I don’t know what I’m more surprised by — the new nickname or the fact that he actually seems to mean it — but I don’t care. I lean in and kiss him. I close my eyes and let the rest of the world melt away under his cinnamon lips. Melody whistles. Without opening my eyes, I flip her off. She laughs, and I chuckle too, pulling