Алекс Калер - The Immortal Circus (Cirque des Immortels)

“Vivienne,” she says, flashing a razor-toothed smile. Her eyes glint gold and black.

I take a deep, steadying breath and thank the gods I didn’t scream.

“Taran…tina?” I say.

She laughs, though her voice deepens. Her face changes.

“ Heath?”

He chuckles. It’s just Heath’s face — stubble and all — that’s similar. The rest is definitely feminine. He gestures to his body with the hand not holding the spider.

“Convincing, eh?” he says. “Janet usually does this gig, but she’s on security instead.”

“Security?”

Heath’s smile slips. He doesn’t answer.

“Oh, right.” I pause. “Has Mab come through here?”

“Hell no,” he says. “You’re my only visitor so far. Well, a couple kids came through but they ran off when they met Honey.” He holds up the tarantula.

“Okay, thanks,” I say, turning around.

“You’re not looking for trouble, are you?” he asks, his voice sliding back into cool feminine tones.

“Never,” I say, and head toward the exit.

“Good,” he/she says. “Because I’ve got a feeling trouble won’t have any problem finding you.”

The alley is a little less crowded now. I can hear the music from the big top and know they’ve probably already called out that the second half is about to start. Everyone is heading toward the chapiteau. I stand on tiptoes, trying to peer over the crowd, and see a shock of pale white hair near the end of the path. I don’t wait. I push into the crowd and make my way toward the end of the lane.

When I get there, the man is nowhere to be seen. The crowd has thinned out and I’m standing alone in a small cul-de-sac. I turn around. I would have seen him leave, and Mab wouldn’t have allowed magic with punters around. That’s when I notice the small space hiding between the tents. A backstage exit.

I step toward it and then stop. If Mab catches me sneaking out through there, she’ll know I was following her. I might as well sign my own death warrant. I need to be crafty. Inconspicuous. I glance at the tent next to the alley. Human Pincushion — adultz only is written on the sign in curling ink. I have to be sneaky.

I duck under the tent flap and enter a room filled with dim light and the scent of hay and oil smoke. The sounds of a viola are coming from a man in the corner, and it’s like I’ve been transported back a few dozen years to the heyday of sideshows. The inner tent walls glow orange in the lantern light and there, on a wooden platform, is a Shifter girl. Her hair is pink and done up in six-inch spikes, and the only thing she’s wearing is a black dog collar around her neck. Every square inch of her naked flesh — from neck to nipples to heels — is pierced. Rings, studs, even what look like nails and acupuncture needles, all sparkle in the lamplight as she weaves a small, slow dance on the platform. The tent contains mostly speechless men, all watching her undulate like a slow-motion belly dancer. She catches my eye as I walk in and winks, then goes back to entrancing the crowd. The black cauldron at her feet is already brimming with bills and coins.

I take advantage of the crowd’s fixation and sneak to the edge of the tent, where the canvas overlaps, and crouch down. I peer out through the tiniest of cracks. Hidden from the crowds, Mab and the blond guy stand beside a few crates. They’re talking, but I can’t make anything out over the music. I don’t want Mab to see me, but I’ve already come this far. And besides, I now feel like if someone’s fucking with the circus, they’re fucking with me. I take my chances and give the occupants of the tent one more glance to make sure no one’s looking, then slip out into the night.

I stay low, crouching behind boxes and sticking to the shadows. Mab and the man are talking near one of the parked company semis. I crawl closer, praying that she’s too fixated on the man to notice me slinking around. I weave behind the semi and crawl underneath, until I’m only a few feet away from their legs. I nearly yelp as something brushes past me, but a quick glance shows it’s only Lilith’s cat, Poe. Which means… I look to my other side and sure enough, there she is, hiding next to one of the wheels like a solid shadow. If she sees me, she doesn’t make any motion to show it. I try not to sneeze as the scent of brimstone fills my nostrils.

“…direct violation for you to be here, you know this,” Mab says. I inch closer and peer up, trying to see her face, but all I can see are her stockings.

“And you are in direct violation of the Blood Autumn treaty,” says the man. His voice is smooth and deep, almost musical, with the lilt of an accent I can’t place.

Mab pauses.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says.

“Don’t play stupid. Your time among the mortals is making you soft. I know what I’ve seen.”

“This is a circus,” Mab says, her voice pitched dangerously low. “Eyes are meant to be deceived here. What you speak is nonsense. And what you’ve done is unforgivable. You dare stand in the Winter Court’s own land and challenge its queen?”

The man doesn’t answer. He shifts his feet, though, which is answer enough.

“I could have you killed,” Mab says, “and not even your Summer King would bat an eyelash. You know you are not welcome here, and you know your life is forfeit the moment you step foot on my land. Now, unless you wish to pay for tonight’s near-disaster with your life, you will leave. And you will not return.”

I expect the man to run. There’s blood in Mab’s words, a fury begging to be unleashed. Instead, he stands his ground. I have to give him credit; he has balls.

“As you say, Queen Mab,” he says. “But we are on to you. The dream trade will stop unless you meet our demands.” He steps back and turns, begins walking away. “Even queens must pay for their actions. Even queens must die.”

Then, without any signal I can see, the man vanishes from the night.

Mab sighs and stands there a moment longer.

Then, reaching down to the tabby cat now purring at her feet, she says, “You can come out now, Lilith dear. It’s safe once more. The bad man is gone.”

Lilith comes out of her hiding place, her frilly black dress smeared with mud.

“What does he want?” Lilith asks. Something about her voice makes me shiver. It’s not as vapid as usual.

“Nothing important,” she says, stroking Lilith’s hair like a pet. “Nothing to worry yourself over. Come, let’s get you some cotton candy.”

She guides Lilith away, Poe following close at their heels. I stay there a moment longer, waiting for the blond man to show up, waiting for someone to come under and yell, “Hah! Found you!” But there’s only the rumble of the crowd behind me. The music in the tent changes, but I don’t head back to my seat. I don’t wend my way back through the sideshow. I just lie there in the cold mud, too distracted to shiver, watching the woods on the far end of the field.

I know without a doubt that there’s more to Sabina’s murder than a random act. Mab is hiding something. And I have a terrible feeling that her secret will get us all killed.

The next morning, before the sun is even up, someone bangs on my trailer door. My heart sinks the moment I gain consciousness. Experience has proven that waking up like this is never a good sign. I pull on a shirt and shorts and open the door. Sure enough, it’s Kingston, looking like the whole world’s on fire and he’s just too tired to give a damn.

“We’re leaving,” he says, handing me a travel mug of what smells like coffee. “In twenty minutes. They’re disconnecting the water in ten, so you might want to hurry if you want to shower.”