The Immortal Circus (Cirque des Immortels) (15 page)

I
f I wasn’t
one hundred percent certain we didn’t have animals in our show, I would have blamed the
elephants for trampling over my head. There’s no other explanation for the
pounding in my temples and the fact that every joint in my body feels like I’d
been sent to boot camp. I roll over in bed, and try to visualize happy, healing
light spreading all over me, easing away the pain. Then someone puts a hand on
my forehead, and that’s exactly what happens.

My eyes
flicker open. There’s Kingston, leaning over me, a sad smile on his face. No
sign of tears or blood, just his usual shadow of stubble and a tiredness in his
eyes. I wish I could kiss his exhaustion away.

“You got your
magic back,” I mumble. His touch is ice water over flame, the perfect dose of
Vicodin.

“What do you
mean?” he asks. He pulls his hand back and the sensation goes away, though now
the pain isn’t as bad.

“Last night,”
I say. I try to think back, but it’s mostly a blur. I just remember him in the
trailer and Senchan and Mab in the headlights. Something about Lilith…a flash
of pain makes me wince. I close my eyes and burrow my face into the pillow.

“What about
last night?” he asks. His words are slow. Deliberate.

“You were
hurt,” I mumble, leaning my head to the side. It feels like trying to string
together a dream from two weeks ago. I know it’s there, but I can’t bring it
up. “After…after the guy from the Summer Court took you. You said he took your
magic.” It even sounds stupid once I say it.

He takes a
deep breath but doesn’t speak.

“What?” I
say. Maybe I’m still asleep. Maybe that’s why everything’s slurring together in
my brain.

“You really
don’t remember?” he asks.

“Remember
what?” The memories are swirling along with the trailer now. The last thing I
want to do is try to remember anything but the solidity of this bed.

“Last
night…gods, I can’t believe this.” Another deep breath on his part, and I look
up in time to see him press his face into his palms, like he’s about to deliver
a death sentence. “You passed out last night.”

“I figured,”
I mumble, trying to motion to the bed but failing. Even thinking of moving a
limb hurts. “But I saw….”

“Honey,” he
says, and he reaches down to pull the covers off me.
Honey.
The word
makes me melt. “You nearly died last night.” I look down to where he’s
pointing. There, on my calf, are two red scabs, the skin around them puffy and
pink. “You were bitten by a rattlesnake a few minutes after getting out of the
truck.”

“But the
Summer Court guy. Senchan.”

He pulls the
covers back over my leg and gives me a no-nonsense sort of stare.

“Who’s
Senchan? You must have hallucinated. You got out of the truck and were bitten
by a rattlesnake. Then you started convulsing and passed out. Everyone saw it.”
There’s a finality to his words that make the room stop spinning. Only I know
that’s not what happened. I think I know that’s not what happened… Right?

“But…” My
thoughts are racing, burning like wildfire. “The fire. Lilith.” My head throbs.
“Lilith set everything on fire.”

“Lilith’s
just a little girl,” Kingston says. “I’m the only one with any real magic in
this troupe. There
was
a fire, yes. But that was the bonfire the
Shifters had last night — some embers set part of the field on fire.
I
put
it out.”

“But — “

“You passed
out, Vivienne. I’ve never seen someone have such a bad reaction to snake
venom.” He bites his lip and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them,
he’s looking out the window.

“Last night
was a shit show,” he says, finally. “But what you’re talking about never
happened.”

“I saw you,”
I say. I push myself up even though it hurts like hell. That inner fire is
back. I
know
it wasn’t a hallucination. He had been held captive. I
fought for him. I
saw
it. “He had a knife to your throat. You were
bleeding and helpless because he took your magic.”

Kingston
leans in close and lifts his chin to the ceiling. His skin is perfectly smooth.

“See?” he
says. “No blood, no cut.” He looks down at me and tries to smile. It’s almost
successful, too, but there’s a waver in his eyes, an uncertainty. He’s lying.
“I wasn’t in danger,” he says. “But it’s kind of cute that you think I could
have been. Did you save me? In your dream?”

He’s close,
oh, so close, but right now, I just want to smack him. I lie back down instead
and stare up at the ceiling. When I close my eyes, my memories sift around. I
still remember him in the headlights, his face pale and terrified. I still
remember Mab confronting Senchan, and I remember meeting Lilith in Kingston’s
trailer. Taking her hand. I swear I remember it, even though it’s blurring
around the edges, fading the more I hold it up for examination.

And there’s
another memory, a shadow of doubt. I remember the sharp pain in my ankle as I
walked to join the troupe at the bonfire. I remember the pain, the nausea and
spasms, as the world spun and fell away. I squeeze my eyes tighter and bring a
hand to my forehead, try to block out the images. What I saw — Senchan,
Kingston, Lilith — had to have been real. It
had
to. So why is the
rattle of the snake I stepped on just as real? Why is that pain just as sharp?

“You need to
sleep,” Kingston says. I don’t open my eyes, but I hear him stand. He puts a
hand on the side of my face. His touch is still cool, even if there’s no real
magic in it now. I can feel his fingertips shaking. “I just wanted to make sure
you were okay.”

Then he
leaves, the door clicking quietly shut behind him.

I’m not okay.
Not even close to okay. I’m on another fucking planet from okay. But for the
first time in a long time, I’m beginning to doubt if he’d be able to make it
better.

He’s
lying.
But why? Why would he lie to me?

I thought he
was on my side.

Now I’m
wondering if that was the biggest lie of all.

I don’t
sleep.

I have this
terrible feeling that the moment I close my eyes, the truth —
my
truth —
will fade away like a dream. It’s easy to believe I made it all up. The pain in
my ankle is real enough, and the more I let it, the more the memory of being
bitten becomes tangible. I just don’t
want
it to be real. The memory of
the confrontation is taking on the same hazy feel as everything else in my
past. So I keep my eyes open and watch a few bands of sunlight slide down the
wall of my room. I consider standing up, but the bite burns like acid. I don’t
move except to get more comfortable. I try not to think of having to pee.

The door
opens a few hours after Kingston’s departure, when the sun is turning the
inside of my bunk pink. I glance up, both hoping and not hoping it’s him.
Instead, it’s Penelope. I sink back down into the mattress and try not to
frown.

“How are you
feeling?” she asks. Her voice is barely a whisper.

“Better,” I
say, which is true. Physically, at least. My head doesn’t hurt nearly as much
and the ankle is just a throb. I’m still holding the memory of Kingston in
danger like a sanity anchor. I can’t let it go. I can’t let myself believe I’m
delusional. Sanity is about the only thing I have going for me anymore, and
even that's not saying much.

She walks over
to the desk beside my bed and sets a tray down. There’s a steaming bowl, a mug,
and a few thick slices of bread. The sight of it makes me want to gag. How can
they expect me to do something as normal as eat when everything in my life is
spinning upside down?

“A simple
meal,” she says, noticing my glance. “We don’t want to add any more poisons to
your system.”

“Thanks,” I
say. I force myself into sitting up and she places the tray in my lap. I pick
up the spoon but don’t start eating. The scent makes me nauseated. She’s still
standing there, watching.

“Are you sure
you’re okay?” she asks.

I open my
mouth, almost tell her the truth, that I feel like my brain’s been put through
a blender and the people I trust are out to get me; I don't. Never trust the
gossip queen. High school taught me that.

I think.

“I’m fine,” I
say. “Just…beat.”

She nods.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re all right. If you need anything, my trailer’s
parked right across from yours.”

I laugh
weakly. “So I’m still under your watch?”

“Yes,” she says.
“So it would seem. Get better soon. I know Richard and Vanessa were hoping to
up your training this site.”

“Right,” I
say. “That.” I’ve completely lost track of the days. Is it tomorrow I’m meant
to be onstage? Or sometime after?

Penelope
doesn’t say anything. She just looks me over one more time, opens her mouth
like she wants to ask another question. Then she turns and leaves.

I can’t
remember the last time I ate, but there’s no way in hell I can stomach anything
right now. I put the tray on the desk and curl back up under the covers. I’m
not going to fall into that trap, the idea that things could start to return to
normal. When I close my eyes, I don’t really care if sleep comes. Maybe this
whole thing — juggling included — would be better off as a dream.

I’m woken up
by Kingston the next morning. He knocks on my door and steps inside without
waiting for my answer. The sight of him washes away whatever nothing I’d been
dreaming, and makes me panic for a moment, wondering who’s just been killed.
Thankfully, he’s smiling as he walks in, a tray of food in his hands. He looks
entirely casual — in gym shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Zal is wrapped around
his bicep, its body hidden around Kingston’s back.

“Sleep well?”
he asks as he nudges aside my uneaten dinner and sets his tray down.

“Yeah.”

“How’s the
ankle?”

I stretch my
foot under the covers. No pain. When I pull the sheets back, there’s only the
slightest of red marks to show I’d been bitten.

“Excellent,”
he says. He sits down in my chair and puts his bare feet up on my bed. “Looks
like you’ll be ready for practice in no time.”

“Thanks for
reminding me,” I say. I reach for the coffee, which is already making my room
smell like a caffeinated heaven.

“I talked
with Mab,” he says. The declaration comes out of the blue, makes me pause
before taking a sip. I don’t say anything. “She won’t let me help you with
juggling.”

“Why not?”
It’s not like I enjoyed the idea of Kingston prodding around in my mind, but it
was better than being thrown out.

“She said it’s
cheating and against your contract. No magical shortcuts.”

“That might
have been nice to know.”

“You’ll be
fine,” he says. His tone isn’t even remotely convincing. There’s a pause, and
when he speaks again, he sounds tentative. “As for yesterday…”

“It’s okay,”
I say. “I can’t expect your enchantments to ward off snakes as well. There’s no
need to apologize.”

He smiles at
me. “I’m glad to hear it,” he says. “You had me worried for a bit there.”

An uneasy
silence threatens to come between us, so I pick the first question out of my
mind I can think of.

“How’s Mel?”
I ask.

“Better. Much
better. She’s out of bed today.”

“That’s
good,” I say.

What had I
been worried about earlier? I look at him and feel a distant sense of betrayal
I can’t quite place. Why would I feel that about him? He’s the one taking care
of us, all of us. Still, the usual butterflies are out of place. Something just
feels
off.
I try to place it, but the idea doesn’t come, so I just pick
up my spoon and start to eat.

He leaves a
few minutes later, after inspecting my ankle and throwing a little more magic
my way. I should be fine to walk around, he says. Just watch where I step. The
door closes behind him and I eat my cereal. Every once in a while, I stare down
at my ankle to make sure it’s still there. The puffiness is gone, and there’s
only a tiny pink scar from the bite marks.