Алекс Калер - The Immortal Circus (Cirque des Immortels)

“But you’ve grown lonely,” Mab purrs. “You desire friends.” She seems to regard the doll in Penelope’s hand. “Real friends.”

The young Penelope pauses. Apparently, even at an early age, she knew Mab’s offers usually had a hook. Or twenty.

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Then perhaps I have a solution.”

Mab waves a hand and the carpet at the young Penelope’s feet ripples, as though the floor is trying to push its way through. Peaks form and colors melt across the fabric as the carpet becomes a series of tents in blue and black. Tiny shadows move about the tents, and I can hear the sound of applause.

“What is it?” the young Penelope asks.

“Your new home,” Mab replies. “I have decided our show is too informal. My scouts in the mortal realm have confirmed that Philip Astley’s show is a great success, and I feel it is in our best interest to follow suit. We are creating a circus.”

The young Penelope leans in to examine the tents.

“Imagine it,” Mab says. She floats down from her throne and kneels down opposite Penelope. “An entire show filled with people like yourself — fey and mortals and divinities. Every act a sensation, every performer a new friend.”

As I listen, I can’t help but wonder if this softer side of Mab still exists, or if it’s been hardened over the years. Could she really have created an entire show for Penelope? Or was that only a ruse to make Penelope feel better about being forced to join?

A voice calls out from the corner of the room.

“I hate it.”

I jerk up and see her striding toward us. She’s in a lacy purple dress and her black hair is tied with ribbons, but there’s no mistaking her face. It hasn’t changed a single bit. And there, prowling from the shadows, is her familiar.

Lilith and Poe.

She walks straight to the circus and stomps on one of the tents. The tents fade instantly. So, too, does the vision.

I blink and we’re back in the trailer. “What was…what was she doing there?” I ask.

Penelope reaches over and plucks the necklace from my hand, returning it to her nightstand before replying.

“Lilith has been with Mab for many, many years. I was the first to tour the world with her, but Lilith existed within Mab’s court long before I did.”

I shake my head.

“But she looks exactly the same. Why did you grow up?”

She shrugs and smiles, though there’s no happiness there.

“I’ve never asked,” she replies.

“Why did she — ”

A loud crash sounds outside, one that makes the glass makeup jars on her vanity tremble. We both jump to our feet in the same instant. She glances out the window.

“The king pole,” she says. “It’s fallen.”

Then she rushes past me and out the door. I’m not far behind.

The tent is a tangle of steel and cables. The canvas walls and roof are gone, but one of the four king poles — the central poles that hold up the highest points of the tent — is on its side. People are shouting and Penelope and I are running full out. The Shifters are already trying to lift the thing, which is easily two stories long, from where it’s toppled onto the bleachers. That’s when I see her, hiding under the tangled mess: Lilith. The king pole is barely two feet above her. Poe is mewling, just clear of the wreckage.

There are other crew members yelling at her to get out, but no one’s willing to take the chance to go after her. The pylons are slowly crushing down on the bleachers, shifting inch by precarious inch. If she doesn’t get out of there fast, she’ll be jelly. Trouble is, anyone trying to get in might just disturb the whole thing and make it crush sooner.

Something in me takes over. I duck into the maze of aluminum and steel and make my way toward her. She’s curled in a fetal position, I can tell that much. But with all the yelling and groaning of steel, I can’t tell if she’s making any noise. She sure as hell isn’t moving. I swing through the mess until I’m just a foot away. Lilith’s shaking, her black dress covered in dust and rubble. One arm is bleeding. Above us, the massive king pole hovers precariously, pitched between a crunching pile of bleacher bits. The thing shudders and eases an inch closer to my head. I hunch down even further and try to reach for her.

“Lilith,” I say. She doesn’t move, so I call her name again, a little more harshly this time. She looks up. “Lilith, we have to go now.”

“Scared,” she says. Her green eyes are wide and her face is completely ashen. “Scared scared scaredy cat.”

“Come on,” I say as the king pole shifts again. “Please.”

“Can’t.” She curls tighter. “Scaredy cat scaredy cat scaredy cat.”

And that’s when something clicks.

“Poe misses you,” I say. “He wants you to come out.”

Her head tilts up again. “Poe? Kitty kitty?”

“Yes,” I say, extending my hand further. “Poe misses you, but he’s too scared to come in here. He wants you to come out and play with him. He wants you to take my hand.”

A screech rends through the air and I flinch as cold metal touches the back of my neck. Lilith doesn’t seem to notice. She’s looking at me, her expression still dazed.

“Please,” I say. “Poe misses you. Now.”

“Okay,” she says. And she takes my hand. My vision explodes.

I scream aloud as the hallucination tears me apart, and then I’m stumbling and falling and letting go and it’s gone. It’s gone and the world is white white white as color slowly seeps back around the edges and my head splits apart like a cleaver is carving it in two. Faces first, then voices. Faces looking down. Kingston and Penelope and Melody and someone’s got a hand on my forehead. Ice water trickles down my skin and down my neck and under my skin into my bones, and I close my eyes and wait for the water to drown me, dreaming of scaled skin and burning blood.

Is she awake yet?”

“Not yet. Wait…yep, there she is.”

I peel my eyes open, which feels like rubbing burning sandpaper inside my temples. It takes a moment, but after a few blinks the dim light solidifies into something I can make out. Kingston hovers overs me, Melody at his side. We’re in my tiny trailer room, and I’m lying on the bed. They’re both looking down like they’re expecting me to grow horns or die. Or both.

“Morning, sunshine,” Kingston says. He touches my shoulder, and once more that cool ice-water sensation slides across my skin and seeps into my head. It feels like bliss.

I shift under his touch and stare up at those brown eyes. For once, I have his attention. All it took was nearly getting crushed to death and an act of stupid heroics. I smile, and he smiles back.

“What happened?” I ask, because I’m afraid if we keep smiling at each other I’ll forget that Mel is still in the room.

“We were going to ask you the same thing, doll,” Melody says. Her eyes are even more shadowed than before, especially in this light. Is it just my near-death experience, or are her fingers shaking?

“What do you mean?” I ask. I try thinking back, but it’s all a blur. Something deep down feels fire, feels burning, but I can’t put my finger on it. Like steam, it just floats around in my subconscious, smoldering invisibly.

“Well,” Kingston says, removing his healing touch. “We all saw you jump into the wreck and pull Lilith out. But we don’t understand why you were screaming when you got her out of there. Then you passed out.” He traces a finger down my arm. I shiver, but not from any magic he might possess.