The Immortal Circus: Final Act (Cirque des Immortels) (5 page)

“Bingo. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.” She practically bounces on her heels. “If this works, we can get every Shifter to turn into you the next time Lilith changes. She’ll be toast.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.
I
don’t even know how to use my powers.”

Another chuckle. “Yeah, well, you’re
you.
”

Before I can ask what she means by that, she closes her eyes and holds her hands out in front of her, as if she’s praying around an invisible juggling ball. I don’t breathe. And, for a few moments at least, it seems that she doesn’t either.

Then she sighs and drops her hands. In that motion, my features wipe from her body, and she’s once more her usual pixie-like self.

“No go,” she says. “I couldn’t even feel a hint of power. Whatever you have, it’s magical in nature. Or something else. Genetics has nothing to do with it.”

“Makes sense, seeing as this is apparently passed down from life to life. Still, thanks for trying.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve been wondering,” I say. “Does it hurt? Shifting?”

“No more than ovulating,” she says. Her sudden grin is split by a yawn. “It’s not that bad. But it’s draining. Especially the big-level stuff. I once tried to turn into a manticore and passed out.”

“When?”

She waves her hand. “Awhile ago. Last week or something. Anyway, I should go; I think Comatose Beauty is starting to wake up.” She nods to Austin. His eyebrows are twitching, and there’s a distinct slump to his shoulders that wasn’t there before. “Unless you want me to stay, of course. I can be your bodyguard.”

“It’s okay,” I say. I stand and walk her the three steps to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.” When I hug her, I whisper in her ear, “I’ll find you if I need anything.” She hugs back tight, then leaves with only a few “you-sure-you’re-okay?” backward glances.

I lean in the doorframe for a moment, watching her leave, watching a few Shifters play beer pong by the fire. Behind it all is the chapiteau, the great black-and-purple tent that once felt like home and has now become my prison. And I have a sinking feeling Austin is just going to be one of many wrenches in my “happily-ever-after” life.

The trailer creaks.

“Vivienne?” Austin whispers behind me. My blood stops at that voice, at the haunting tingle it brushes over my skin. It’s time to face the music.

I turn to see Austin standing by the bed, looking at me like he’s been waiting for this for months. Which, I suppose, is entirely possible. His perfect lips are parted, and there’s a haze to his pale blue eyes that wavers on tears. My heart aches—not because I feel the same, but because I don’t.

I nod.

“It’s me,” I say. I try to smile. “You’ve found me.”

For a moment we just stand there, staring at each other, and a thousand different scenarios play through my head: me remembering it all and running into his arms, him saying he never gave up trying to find me. There are thousand ways for this to be a Hallmark moment. But as we stand and watch each other, each passing second is a reminder that none of those instances will come to light. I feel nothing; the look on his face tells me he feels everything.

“What happened to you, Viv?” he finally asks. He shakes his head like he’s trying to remember or forget. “What happened to us? To me?”

I close the door behind me and slump against it. I’m suddenly more tired than I’ve felt in days. Then again, it’s hard to sleep with a show on your shoulders.

“Impossible questions,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “What are you even doing here?”

He doesn’t answer at first, just bites his lip and sighs and stares at me, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. If only his eyes would lose that sheen. If only I could convince myself I wasn’t the one who put him through whatever he went through to find me. He’s my responsibility, in more ways than one.

“I don’t really know,” he finally says. “The summer is a bad dream; I don’t even know what’s real. I was going through life like normal—work and sleep and all that—and then about a week ago I woke up and just…remembered. Like you just reappeared in my memory. And I knew I had to find you. I don’t get it—before that, I didn’t even know I’d lost you.”

“How
did
you find me?” Easier to focus on the practical side of things; the less we veer toward emotions, the better. Does he remember coming here and discovering me months ago? Or did Kingston effectively wipe that memory out of Austin’s mind?

Austin looks down at his feet. “I didn’t, at first. You were like a ghost—no one I spoke with knew who you were; you weren’t in any phone book or yearbook photo or anything. For a while I thought I was making you up. Then one night I just remembered where you lived. Or, well, used to live. I even remembered your apartment number.” He laughs, but the laughter is filled with pain and confusion. “So I went back to your parents’ place. I mean, I tried. There was a woman outside the front door. She was like some dominatrix, wearing this long leather coat. She said she knew how to find you.”

“And you believed her?”

He shrugs. “Something about her made me trust her. And she was right, wasn’t she? She helped me find you.”

Mab.
If I didn’t want to kill her before, I do now. Lilith’s warning dances through my mind, and I push myself from the door, partly to move and partly to force the girl’s mocking words away.

“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” I say. I collapse on the bed. He remains standing.

“So tell me,” he prompts. “What are you doing here, Viv? That woman said you were in charge of a circus now. Who the hell runs away and takes over a circus without telling anyone? And how the hell did I forget you like that?”

I open my mouth to say I didn’t run away, but I can’t bring myself to lie like that. I
was
running away. It just didn’t work.

“What else did she tell you?” I ask.
Stick with the practicalities.
“What do you remember?”

“No, Viv. I’m asking the questions.” There’s no anger in is voice when he says it, though. He sounds hurt. And it only gets worse when he asks, “Why did you leave me?”

“What do you remember?” I repeat slowly, not tearing my gaze from his. “I just need to know. Before I left. What do you remember from before I left?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s fuzzy,” he says. “You said something about needing a safe place to stay. Your parents had threatened you or something, and you couldn’t go home.”

I hesitate. There’s an absence in what he’s saying that I can physically feel.

“Just me?” I ask.

He looks at me like I’m crazy. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I mean, it was just me coming to you for help.”

“Who else would there be?” he asks.

He doesn’t know.
Claire isn’t even a blip on his radar—he has completely forgotten I had a sister. Which means he has no idea I killed her. And my family. At least, for now.
How long until that piece of Kingston’s magic falls away, too?

“Never mind,” I say.
He thinks you ran away from an abusive situation. You don’t have to tell him the truth. He doesn’t have to know what you are.
For some reason, those thoughts just make it worse. I could lie to him. It would be easier than telling the truth. But I already have so many lies stacked on my plate, there’s no way I can add more. Especially not to someone who’s clearly gone through hell to find me.

“I had to get away,” I finally say. “After…after what happened. I couldn’t stay in Detroit anymore. That’s when I saw the circus. Mab—the woman you met—she hired me on. I’m sorry. I should have told you or called or something. I was just scared.”

I hope it’s convincing. It’s not a lie, not really—I just leave out the important parts, like magically forgetting he even existed and signing a contract that roped me in for eternity. Oh, and running away because I killed my entire family. I’ll let him fill in the blanks on his own. But it feels false on my tongue. I still feel empty as I try to impose some sort of emotion.

“But why didn’t you tell me? It’s been months since I’ve seen you and it’s like you completely vanished off the face of the earth.” He looks to the floor. “It’s like you stopped existing. Even for me. How did I forget about you, Viv? What
happened?”

I try to collect my thoughts, to put them in some sort of rational order. “I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you.”

“I think you owe me an explanation either way.”

My eyes dart to his, a small flame of indignation flaring like snake venom.
Owe him!?
But then the heat gutters and dies; he’s right. I vanished from his sight even before I signed on to the show. It had always been my intention to leave him behind to keep Claire safe. Even before Mab brought me on.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

So I do what is probably the dumbest thing I’ve done since signing on.

I tell him. Everything.

The sun has risen by the time I get through it all. I didn’t think it would be possible to share this with someone, but there’s something about Austin that’s an equal mix of familiar and alien; I can talk to him because some part of me knows I can trust him. And because it feels like talking to a stranger on a park bench—there’s a distance that makes me not care if what I say sounds crazy.

Besides, he’ll find out for himself soon enough.

I tell him everything, about the war and the Courts and Lilith. All of it. Well, all of it except for Claire and Kingston and my parents. I don’t want him thinking I’m a monster, not if he doesn’t have to. If Kingston’s memory magic allows me this small grace, I’ll take it. When I’m done, he stares at me without speaking, and I do my best not to analyze his expression. It feels like hours pass. After nearly convincing myself to start talking again, Austin finally breaks the silence. It’s exactly what I expected to hear.

“This is insane. This is completely insane.”

“I told you you wouldn’t believe it.”

He runs his hands through his hair. “I never said I don’t believe it,” he mumbles. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense.” He peers through his fingers at me. “Magic? Really? Like, dragons and wizards and all that?”

I shrug.

“Sort of. More like faeries and witches and shape-shifters, but yeah, magic. And you’re part of it now.” I hesitate over the next lines. I almost don’t want to know how tightly Mab has him snared. “Did she tell you…did she tell you how long your contract is for? Do you have any idea what your exit clause is?”

He doesn’t answer at first, but his expression makes me think the worst.

“I have no clue,” he finally says. “She never mentioned it. I thought it was just a part-time sort of thing, you know? She took me into this office building downtown and made me sign all sorts of paperwork. That’s all I remember—she never gave me time to read the fine print.”

“Shit.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Because if you don’t remember, there’s no saying what you have to do to get out of here.”

“Why would I want to leave?” he asks. “I just got here. I just found you, and I’m going to fight.”

As if on cue, the scent of brimstone wafts across my nostrils. No visions, not after feeding so recently, but I can practically feel the war looming closer. I shake my head and force myself to look him in the eye.

“I’m not going to argue with you. If we can get you out, we’re getting you out. If you stay, you’ll get killed in the crossfire. I can’t protect you, Austin. I can barely protect myself.”

It’s strange, saying any of this to him. Before all this, before I ran away, he didn’t even know about my visions. Now he’s taking all of it—warring Faerie Courts and demons and magical once-girlfriend—in stride. Did Mab magic him into being more open-minded, or was he always this ready to believe?

Maybe you never had to run away in the first place. Maybe he would have helped you all along.

I push the thoughts down. They’re dangerous, and wondering about the past isn’t going to get either of us out of this mess. But there’s a look in his eyes, an eagerness, that tells me that no matter what, he won’t leave my side. Not again.

He’s still in love. And he still thinks I am, too.

“Listen,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. I know this is going to hurt a lot more than learning about my murderous past. But if I’m going to keep Austin safe, I’m going to have to tell him the truth about Kingston. I’m going to have to hurt him before he’s hurt even worse. “A lot has happened since you saw me.”

“So it seems,” he mutters.

“And until a few weeks ago,” I continue, “I didn’t even know you existed. I now know we were in love, before this. I know we wanted to settle down and have a life together. I remember that now, even if I can’t really feel it. But…but there’s someone else.”

Instantly, he sits up straighter, his eyebrows furrowing. But he stays silent. I know, in the back corner of my brain, that Austin was never the type to jump to false conclusions. He wasn’t rash or abrasive. He waited to hear the whole truth before deciding. He’s the exact opposite of the man I can’t tell if I still love or loathe, even if that man is dead.

“It’s complicated,” I say. “But the long and short of it is this: I fell in love with a guy in the show, and now he’s dead. It was before I remembered you existed, and now I don’t even know if any of my feelings for him were real. But even though he betrayed me, I can’t change the fact that I’m constantly thinking of him—he held this show together, and without him, we’re falling apart faster than before. So yeah. I have a show on the brink of rebellion and two Faerie Courts at my throat and a demon just waiting for me to turn my back. And a dead ex who may or may not have magically forced me to love him.” I give a halfhearted laugh and look at Austin. “I’m sorry. But I don’t have the ability to be in love with you, not right now. Maybe never again. I have too many other things to worry about, and I can’t add any more.”

A small part of me hates myself for the ease with which I delivered the blow. But it’s nearly six in the morning and I haven’t slept and I still taste blood in the back of my mouth—telling a boy I barely remember that I can’t love him is easily the least damaging thing I’ve done today.

“I understand,” he says finally. He pushes himself from the bed and makes for the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask. For some reason, watching him leave, hearing the disappointment in his voice, twists a pang of hurt through my heart that wasn’t there before.

He sighs and leans his head against the doorframe, then looks back to me.

“I don’t know what I expected in coming here. I should have known that you didn’t want to be with me. I mean, you left. You didn’t answer your phone. You vanished. I don’t know why I thought that seeing you again would change any of that.”

I shake my head. “That’s not it. I mean, I did want to be with you. It’s just, now it‘s—”

“Complicated,” he says. “I know. You told me. Many times. And I don’t want to be a complication. No more than I already am.”

I open my mouth.

“Mab said something about today being a jump day,” he says. “I’m going to go get us some coffee.”

“Us?” I ask.

“Yeah. Apparently we’re riding together.” He gives me a smile with absolutely no humor. It looks more like a sneer. “Should be a fun trip.”

Then he opens the door and steps out into the pink dawn.

When he’s gone, I can’t help but feel like I’ve made a terrible mistake. A small part of me longs for him to come back, to rebuild the bridge that burned down along with everything else. That part craves the comfort Austin could represent, the safety he used to be. And in that moment, I can’t tell if the mistake was letting him walk out the door or telling him everything in the first place. I know that last look in his eyes, the hurt and abandonment. I felt it when Kingston admitted our initial love was a lie. Which, I guess, makes me no better than him.

I close my eyes and take a long, slow breath. Austin is a mistake I’ll have to live with—potentially for the rest of my time in the show. But maybe this is one that will right itself. Some day.

If I don’t break the poor boy first.

Breakfast that morning is short and sweet. Both the chapiteau and the Tapis Noir tent were packed up overnight, which means the only thing left to do is attach the bunk trailers to the pickup trucks and get on the road. The crew mingles around a folding table set up outside the pie cart, and the moment I step from my bunk their eyes snap to me, conversation cutting off in an instant. Like a chugging engine, a second later they go back to talking among themselves; I can’t suppress the unease that snakes up my arms like goose bumps. I have no doubt that they were talking about me, and I have no doubt it isn’t good.

Austin’s a few feet away, with Mel. There’s a foil-wrapped breakfast burrito in one of his hands and a cup of coffee in the other. Obviously, he wasn’t so intent on bringing me back breakfast, and I can’t say I blame him. Right now, I don’t want to be around me either. I head toward the table and grab my own breakfast-to-go. I barely even register that the crew parts at the sight of me: their reaction has become expected, a depressing dance.