“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.
“Hey,” Mel says. I glance over at her. Austin’s gone, walking toward a semi parked at the edge of the lot.
“Morning,” I say. I nod to Austin’s retreating back. “What did he say?”
She shrugs. “Asked if he could ride with one of the other concessionaires, to get the lay of the land, you know. So it looks like I’m riding with you.” Her eyebrow quirks, telling me she saw through that ruse with zero effort.
“Okay.” Another small twist in my heart as I watch him get further away. I don’t remember how it felt to love him, but it sure as hell hurts watching the rift grow between us.
And that’s when I realize—it doesn’t hurt because we used to be in love. Well, that might be part of it. It hurts because he’s the only one in this whole troupe who knew me before I joined the circus. He could be the one person in this world who sees me as a whole person and not just a series of contractual obligations. To him, I’m not a ringmaster or a warmonger—I’m just Vivienne, the girl he fell for in high school and never let go of. He’s the only one who knows that none of this is my doing, that I’m trapped just like the rest of them. And maybe that’s the hardest part of all; he’s the one who was there for me before all of this, and the one who would probably—if I got my shit together—be there for me after. If there’s an after.
Because sometimes, when she doesn’t think I’m watching, I see even Melody looking at me like this is my fault.
“We leave in ten,” she says, snapping from my reverie. “I’ll take the first leg. You get the doughnuts.”
I give my friend a small smile and head back to my bunk to change before the trailer is hitched up. I’m still carrying my food, but the chances of me eating anything today are slim. The acid in my gut from Austin’s departure is making sure of it.
Chapter Six: Soul Meets Body
For the first few miles, Mel and I don’t say anything. We’re first in the long caravan of trucks, and the GPS on the dashboard says we still have three hours until our next destination. I don’t know how Mab managed to find and fill shows in these Podunk towns, but our schedule is booked solid for the next ten years. And I have a feeling it stops there because the calendar we use only goes that far.
“So,” Melody finally says over the blaring radio. She takes one hand off the wheel to turn it down, and since she’s holding a coffee with her other hand, she’s driving with one knee.
“So,” I say, keeping silent about her terrifying driving habits.
“How’d it go?”
“Great, obviously. Seeing as he didn’t want to be in the same car as me.”
“This is technically a cab,” she says, “but I understand what you’re getting at.”
“I told him everything. About the war, about Kingston.”
“Well, that was stupid.”
I glare at her, and she shrugs.
“All things considered,” she continues, “I’d say he took it rather well. I mean, he didn’t try to leave or burn you at the stake. So that’s a plus.”
“Yeah, but he also doesn’t want to be around me.”
She glances over at me before looking back to the road. “Can you blame him? I mean, he came all the way here to find you, only to learn that you’ve been seeing some other guy and barely even remember he existed. It’s kind of a lot to take in, even if you don’t consider the magical implications of everything else. You’re lucky the poor guy’s head didn’t explode.”
“There’s still time,” I mutter, and stare out the window.
Melody doesn’t give me much opportunity to ponder.
“The troupe’s unhappy,” she says.
“Tell me something new.”
“No, I mean, they’re really unhappy. I had to talk two jugglers down from burning the prop tent last night. And having Austin here is just making it worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well. You told me not to hire on any more Shifters, and a few days later we get a new concessionaire—which, as I’m sure you know, we don’t actually need, seeing as we normally just hire on locals part time. And someone let slip that Austin was an old fling of yours. People think you’ve just brought him here because you wanted a fuck buddy.”
“I didn’t—!”
“I know,” Melody interrupts. “And I told them that only Mab can hire on new crew members. But I’d keep an eye on Austin, if I were you. The last thing he needs is to get into a bar fight with a Shifter or twelve. I have a funny feeling Mab might have left out his immortality clause, just to keep things interesting for you.”
I press my head against the window and close my eyes.
“Great. So now I have to babysit.”
“Consider it more like being a bodygua
rd. Except you’re trying to protect your crew from your crew without anybody knowing what you’re doing in case you accidentally piss someone off.”
“It sounds so easy when you put it like that.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t turn the radio up, not for another ten miles. When she does finally twist the dial, I feel the things left unsaid swallowed up in the noise. It feels like suffocating.
* * *
The ebony necklace is warm against my chest—I never take it off, not since Kingston left it in my care. As I stare out the window and let my thoughts drift, I barely register the tingle that spreads from the dark stone across my sternum. My mind washes away, either the stone’s magic or exhaustion pulling me under the waves in a blur of sunlight.
We sat on the beach, watching the waves pull in and out, warm water lapping against the sand that twined through our toes. The sun was setting over the lake, everything shattering with light and color, like a fiery disco ball slowly disintegrating into foam. Kingston sat beside me, one arm across my shoulders, the other propping him up on the blanket.
“What do you think about when you dream of the future?” he asked. There was wistfulness in his voice, tinged by the barest hint of regret. Like dreaming of the future wasn’t something he let himself do.
“You mean like flying cars?” I said. I didn’t want to admit that I’d even considered a future together, a future outside of the show and the murders and the crazy. The idea was too difficult to hold on to; I had the feeling that if I stared at it too long, it would disappear like fog in the sun.
“I mean like you and me. Once our terms are done.”
I chuckled even as my heart flipped. He can’t know you’ve daydreamed this. It will only hurt more when it doesn’t happen.
“I dunno. That’s a long ways off. Don’t you have a few hundred more years?”
He shrugged, and I nuzzled in closer, inhaling the heavy scent of his scuffed leather jacket.
The Immortal Circus: Final Act (Cirque des Immortels) Page 6