I can only hope the strength he showed me before is enough.
Chapter Seven: Tightrope
Melody’s the first to see us. It’s a block away from the pitch, and the moment I see her hustle over I realize something’s wrong. The pitch doesn’t look right, somehow, even in the darkness. She stops under a streetlamp with her hands in the pockets of her long brown cardigan and a worried bite into her lower lip.
“Hey,” she says the moment we near. Somehow, that casual greeting is laced with more worry than I thought humanly possible. “How was dinner?”
“Good,” I say, though it comes out more as a question. Mel’s practically bouncing back and forth on her feet in agitation, and she won’t stop looking around. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” she asks. Then she shakes her head and takes a long, steadying breath. When she looks me in the eye, all happiness from the dinner pops like a busted balloon animal. “You…you might not want to come back right now.”
“Mel.”
She takes another deep breath. “It’s the Shifters,” she says. “I’ve tried everything, but they won’t listen to me.”
And that’s when it clicks—the pitch doesn’t look right because nothing’s been set up: no tent, no concession booths, no dirt promenade to the big top. The lot is filled with silence and semis.
I don’t hesitate. I let go of Austin’s hand and brush past Mel, jogging the last block into the shadows of the pitch.
The only light coming from inside the ring of trucks is a bonfire, and when I get closer I realize the kindling isn’t wood, but show programs and popcorn boxes and a few shattered shipping crates. That’s not what makes me stop in my tracks, however: it’s the crew. Everyone—Shifters and performers and musicians and tech crew—stands around the blaze. All of them throw more show pieces into the flames. Everyone hollers and laughs as they watch the show burn.
Everyone but Lilith. She stands apart, by the wheel of a semi, her eyes flickering orange and hellish in the light. The smile slashed on her face glows like embers. I don’t look back when I hear Austin approach me from behind, and I don’t let the fear that’s coursing through my veins shut me up. I’m facing down a cast and crew of fifty, a group that was all put here because they performed some terrible crime in the past. A mob with powers most mortals couldn’t imagine.
But I’m far from innocent. My crimes are worse than anything their twisted minds could dream up.
“What the hell are you doing?” I scream.
One of the Shifters, a woman with stars tattooed over her brow and leather straps laced up her wrists, steps forward.
“What do you think we’re doing?” she spits. “This is a coup.”
I don’t actually say anything for a moment. Not because I’m surprised, but because it’s finally happening, like the difference between getting into a plane to skydive and standing in the open threshold thousands of feet above the ground. I stare at the silent troupe, the only sound the crackle of the bonfire and a few trucks on the highway beyond.
“A coup?” I ask. I step forward. “Are you an idiot?”
The woman’s eyes dart between Mel and me.
“We’re done with this, Vivienne. Our contracts are shit and Mab’s nowhere to be found, and then you have the nerve to invite him.” She points to Austin. My nerves flare. “We’re not going on like this, not anymore. Too many people have died and no one knows when they’re getting out—the terms we signed on for aren’t being honored, so why should we honor ours? Until we get a better deal, we’re not setting up. We’re not performing. We’re not going to be your puppets any longer.”
Fire burns inside me. Puppets? You want to talk about puppets?
“If Mab finds out about this—” I begin.
“Yeah, well, Mab isn’t finding out about this, is she? Because Mab isn’t here. You’re in charge, Vivienne. This is your shit-show now, and you’re going to make it right.”
“What do you want me to do?” I yell. The happiness from before is swallowed with anger—anger at the rebellion and anger at this bitch for ruining my night. And yes, anger at myself, too, because I know there’s nothing I can do to change anything. Especially since it was Melody’s and my idea to rile them up in the first place. “I don’t have the book of contracts. I don’t have any way of getting in touch with Mab. We’re all stuck here. We’re all fucked. So get over yourselves and get on with the show so we can actually do something about it later.”
The woman shakes her head. The fact that I don’t know her name only further cements just how inadequate I am at this job.
“The show isn’t going on, Vivienne. Haven’t you been listening? We’re done. But since we can’t leave without dying, we’re just not going to work.”
“Come on, guys,” comes Austin’s voice, strong and commanding. He steps up beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. Despite the comfort we found a few minutes ago, his touch makes me want to shirk away. Not out of revulsion, but because I can’t let the troupe see us like this. “Vivienne’s not at fault here.”
The woman’s painted eyebrows practically disappear into her hair.
“And who the hell are you to tell us how to run our show? You’re just the ringmaster’s fuck buddy.”
His grip on my shoulder tightens.
“Austin, don’t—”
But he cuts me off. He steps toward the Shifter, his hands clenched at his sides. The crew behind the woman shuffles closer, ready for a fight.
“We’re all stuck in this game,” he says. He gestures to me. “I know I’m new around here. But that just means I can call it like it is. This isn’t Viv’s doing. It’s Mab. All Mab. If you want to fight or rebel against someone, rebel against her.”
“We can’t,” she retorts. “Don’t you think we’d have tried? It’s against our contracts. Just thinking of rebelling against Mab makes me choke. But her?” she says, nodding toward me. “No such clause. We could overthrow her any time we want.” The grin she gives me is far from nice; her lips are a knife slash, bleeding murder. “The only thing that’s kept us from offing her in her sleep is Mel.”
My blood goes cold. But I don’t look to Austin. I stand up straighter and try to let the death threat roll off.
“You’re dumber than I thought if you think my death will change anything.” I address the rest of the troupe. “Listen, I know you’re pissed. I am, too, trust me. And just like you, I’d do anything to get back at Mab for what she’s done. Your fight’s with her, not me. But if we don’t run the show, we die. All of us. No second chance, no renegotiations. If we miss a single fucking performance, our contracts are up and we all get the ax. Do you really want that?”
A voice from behind me makes my blood run cold.
“What is this about shirking obligations?”
The moment Mab’s voice snakes through the crowd, everyone stiffens a little bit straighter. Even the woman leading the coup takes a half step back.
I turn around and watch as Mab emerges from the shadows, her body barely covered in a sheer black gown and black leather go-go boots. Her green eyes flicker around the assembled troupe, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. She steps beside me, and that’s when the ice in my bones melts. She doesn’t smell like Mab. She smells like patchouli.
Melody.The leader of the coup is flabbergasted; she stands before the fire with her mouth gaping like a fish, her eyes constantly darting back to the troupe for backup. None comes. Melody takes another seductive step forward, her hands on her hips. She must have done that whole DNA-tap thing to Mab: the resemblance is too perfect for ordinary Shifter magic. Though how Mel ever got close enough to Mab for that touch is beyond me.
“I don’t like what I see, loves,” Mel says, her smoky voice drifting like ash from the fire. “I know I may be a bit…removed…from the troupe lately, but I know your schedule like the back of my hand. The chapiteau should be erected by now, and it hasn’t even been unloaded yet.”
She turns to me.
<
br /> “Is this what happens when I leave you in charge? Are you completely worthless, or only partly so?”
My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice calm. Convincing, Mel. A little too convincing.
“I was away for the evening,” I say. “I assumed they’d be able to set up without a babysitter. Apparently I was wrong.”
“Apparently,” Mel says, and turns back to the crowd. “You have until dawn. If the chapiteau is not assembled by then, you will all be fired. And as I’m sure you remember from your contracts, line 127 clearly states that an early dismissal due to sloth will result in an immediate and painful death. I’m afraid ‘fired’ has a very literal meaning in this case.”
As if on cue, the bonfire pops like a gunshot. I can’t help but grin at the way the troupe collectively jumps at the noise.
“I would get started, if I were you. Time is of the essence.”
No one moves, not at first. They stare at her like maybe they’re gaining some of their resolve back. If they decide to rebel against her, we’re screwed. The fire pops again as another log rolls down and into the dirt. That’s when Lilith steps forward, emerging from the dark of the trailer like a child banshee. My skin grows cold as the fire flares higher and I’m suddenly wondering if it’s in response to Lilith’s presence or just a fluke. Not tonight, not tonight, don’t let Kassia release tonight.
“You best get Auntie Mab,” she says, walking closer. The crowd parts around her like she has the plague, and when she steps up to me and stares into my eyes, I wish I could bring myself to step away as well. I’ve seen many emotions in her eyes before, but I’ve never seen such glee. Not like this. “You best get Auntie Mab right now.”
“I am Mab, Lilith,” Melody says. Her eyes flicker toward me. Shit.
“No,” Lilith says. “You are Melody. And if you do not get Auntie Mab, you’re all going to die.”
My hands clench tighter. I’m acutely aware of Austin standing beside me, his presence a promise of failure. Every other member of this troupe can fight, has some power up their sleeve. But Austin is vulnerable. He’s my responsibility. And Lilith already warned me that I should have gotten him out.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
No one grumbles as Melody shifts back into her usual self. Everyone is still—they’re too scared of Lilith to even begin yelling about Melody’s treachery. The silence stretches.
The girl doesn’t speak. Not at first. She slowly lifts her hand and points to the horizon; her grin widens with every inch.
“My friend is coming,” she says. “He’s almost here.”
I look to where she points. There, in the darkness, is the orange-red glow of flame. Even from here I can feel my skin tingle, can feel the light and power build beneath my palms as traces of brimstone waft through my nostrils. My powers stir. And there’s only one time when my powers stir.
“A demon,” I say.
I look at Lilith, who stands before me with her hands clasped in front of her and an excited smile plastered on her face. There’s no sight of Kassia in her childish features, but I don’t doubt that that could change at any moment. “I thought you were the only one,” I whisper.
“I was,” she says. “But the Broken King made more. Broken children for a Broken King.” She cocks her head to the side. Even with that innocent smile, her eyes burn harsher than hellfire. “I told you, you should have run. Now, we’re all going to get to play. And you will not like our games.”
Episode Three
Chapter Eight: Demons
Melody’s at my side in an instant, her hand on my shoulder. Her touch is hot and quivering, like she’s ready to shift into some ferocious beast at any moment. We stare at the horizon where the orange glow grows brighter. There’s no mistaking the scent of brimstone now. My throat burns with eager hatred.
“What is it?” asks the woman leading the mob. There’s a shake to her voice, one that definitely wasn’t there a moment ago. She may hate me, and she may not know what Lilith truly is—the whole troupe was magically forced to forget—but everyone skirts around the crazy little girl. We all know that a happy Lilith is a terrifying Lilith.
“A demon,” I say.
“Demons don’t exist,” she says, which is probably the dumbest thing she’s said all night. She’s a shape-shifter working for a faerie, and she doesn’t believe in demons?
“They do,” I say; my eyes flicker to Lilith, who smiles wider, then back to the woman. She’s right—she should be right. Until now, Kassia was the only demon I’ve heard of. If there were more, the world would already be in flames. Right? Was this some sort of demonic apocalypse?
“What are we going to do?” Melody asks. I glance at her and realize I don’t even know if she remembers when Kassia attacked. The troupe was brainwashed into thinking the tent burned down in a fire, a fire that somehow cost us half the performers. Mel wasn’t even on site when it happened. But there’s something in her eyes that tells me she knows just how deep the shit we’re stepping into is.
“So long as you’re here, Mel,” I say, trying to keep my voice from carrying to the troupe, “the immortality clause should stand. Your tithe should keep us safe.”
“Should, Oracle,” Lilith says. “But I wouldn’t rely on Mab’s magic. It has failed before. And without her around, the risk of failure is much more likely.” She clenches her fists as she says this; thin shards of light spear from her hands, red and hot and vanishing in an instant.
“Take Lilith,” I tell Melody. “I don’t care where you take her, but just get her out of here. Lock her in her trailer if you have to, and make sure she doesn’t get out.” I catch sight of Austin, standing there like he’s ready to take on the world. “Scratch that. Take her and Austin to bunk zero. I don’t want him getting hurt in the cross fire.”
Bunk zero. I haven’t stepped foot in there since Kingston showed me the Wheel that turned Dream into fabric and somehow fed the Fey. Like Mab’s office, I knew it was a world apart, somehow connected and separate from the show. Hopefully it was far enough to keep Austin safe and Lilith from causing trouble.
“I should be helping you,” Melody says. Her teeth are clamped and the muscles in her arms are doubling in size. “I should fight.”
“You’re the only one I trust to keep her from getting involved,” I say. “Besides, you know what happened the last time you got hurt.”
She looks at me like I’ve wielded a blade against her, but she nods tersely and grabs Lilith’s arm. She knows I have a point; Melody's tithe keeps the troupe immortal. If she gets hurt, our immortality clauses go down the drain. We nearly lost the troupe the last time she got sick.
“I’m not going to leave you,” Austin says. His words burn and Lilith giggles. I want to punch that little girl in the face.
I step up to him and lower my voice, putting a hand on his arm. Once, he was enough to protect me and my sister from the evils of this world. But these new evils are definitely not from this world. And neither is a part of me.
“Please don’t do this,” I whisper. “Just go with Melody. I’ll be perfectly safe. Contractually immortal, remember? And I don’t know if Mab gave you the same clause.”
He bites his lip, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to find weakness, some reason to stay.
“I can take care of this,” I whisper. “But not if I’m worrying about you.”
I know he wants to fight, I can see it in the jut of his jaw. But he doesn’t. He just nods and kisses me on the forehead.
“Kick his ass,” he whispers. Then he nods to Melody and lets her lead him away from the fire.
“Have fun playing,” Lilith calls out.
Then they round a trailer and vanish from sight.
“Right,” I say, addressing the troupe. Even though the glow on the horizon is still distant, it’s getting closer by the second. I can practically hear the crackling cinder of burning earth. I can smell the hatred. “We have to hurry, before—”
The wor
ld tilts.
Fire wreathes me, blazes as the tent crisps and peels up into the darkened sky and all around are bodies, so many bodies, burnt and twisted, and beside me Kassia is laughing, laughing, dancing and laughing in the dust of their bones.
I gasp as though drowning and the world sears back into focus, burning in at the edges like parchment. I’m on my knees and everyone is staring at me; I can’t tell if they look alarmed because there’s a murderous demon approaching or because I’m passing out on the job. I bring a hand to my temple and force myself to stand. There’s a ringing in my ears and my throat burns from brimstone. I shouldn’t be having visions. I just fed.
The thought of blood makes my stomach turn in disgust and hunger, all in one nauseating go.
“Before what?” the Shifter leader asks. It takes me a second to realize my vision cut me off. I glance at her and can’t help but see her flesh char. “What’s coming for us?”
This is it, I think. This is our end. At least Austin’s safe. The fact that protecting him was even an impulse surprises me. But it’s true—even if the trailer burns down, he should be okay. Bunk zero leads to Faerie; destroying the trailer would just close the gateway. It's probably the safest place for him.
“A demon. Like I said. And it’s going to rip us apart. If it’s anything like what I’ve fought before, I’m the only one who can stop it. You guys can try to fight, but it will probably just kill you before you leave a mark.”
“Fuck that,” the woman says. “I’m not just going to bend over and take it. None of us are.” She glances at the troupe, hope stirring in my chest. Is the army rallying?
Her next words dash every hope I had: “Let us out.”
“What?” I ask.
She steps toward me. “I said, let us out. We’re not going to die fighting for this show. We don’t even want to be here. Change our contracts so we can run.”
My mouth opens and closes. No words. You could almost mistake the glow on the horizon for dawn. Except dawn is hours away, and the glow smells like burning death even from here.
The Immortal Circus: Final Act (Cirque des Immortels) Page 8