Алекс Калер - The Immortal Circus (Cirque des Immortels)

“Wait, what? What time is it?” My head still feels like it’s swimming and I’ve got that sharp taste in my sinuses that I’m positive is God’s punishment for waking up at the ass-crack of dawn.

“Five,” he says without checking a watch. “And I already told you the important part: we’re leaving.”

“But, we aren’t scheduled to jump ’til tomorrow.” I take a deep drink from the coffee, hoping that maybe it will help me remember the day of shows I’ve apparently missed.

“And Mab changed her mind last night. Look,” he says, and I really do look at him. He looks about as bad as Mel did yesterday, with dark circles under his eyes. His black hair is tangled and I’m pretty certain that’s the shirt he was wearing yesterday, but I don’t mention it. “Don’t ask questions, okay? For your own sake. Just go take a quick shower or brush your teeth or whatever you do in the morning, grab something to eat, and get in the truck. You’re riding with Lilith and Penelope.”

“But the tent,” I say, and then I realize why something about the view seemed off. My door opens out to the chapiteau. And yet right now, it’s all empty field. It clicks. “Wait, so Mab…she used magic to take the tent down? I thought she refused to do that.”

“Don’t assume,” Kingston snaps. He takes a deep breath, grabs the coffee from my hands, and takes a drink. “To be more precise, she used my magic last night to take the tent down. And now, I either want to sleep for the week or die. I’m not fussy. But I’m also not asking questions, and I suggest you do the same.” He takes another drink, grimaces, and swirls his fingers over the lid. I don’t see anything happen, but the next swig he takes brings a relieved smile to his face. “Much better,” he says.

He takes another big gulp and hands it back to me, then turns away and starts back to his own trailer. “Ten minutes,” he calls back. “And be careful with that. It’s strong.”

I take a drink and nearly burn my throat. He’s spiked it with something that tastes like Kahlua and nail varnish. I dump it out in the grass and go find my toothbrush. When I go back outside, I’m not at all surprised to see that spot of grass is already turning brown.

No one knows where the next site is.

Apparently, Mab’s completely changed the tour schedule overnight, refunding everyone who bought in advance and donating a dollar to Clowns Without Borders for every refunded ticket, just to soften the blow. At least, this is what Penelope tells me in the truck as we make our way to some unknown destination, following the semi in front of us. I'm hoping no one needs to stop for a piss on the way — myself included. I've got a feeling Mab hasn't scheduled any stops for the drive. Penelope’s driving, with me riding passenger and Lilith riding bitch. Poe is curled up in Lilith's lap, fast asleep. The kid hasn’t said anything, and Penelope — usually full of conversation — isn’t doing her part to mend the silence. NPR is playing in the background, but all I’m really paying attention to is the landscape sliding by and my deep, deep desire to pass out with my face pressed to the window. I am not a morning person, and the clock on the dashboard is telling me it’s only 7:13.

“What you did the other day,” Penelope says, breaking me from my stupor. “It was quite brave.” She reaches over and rustles Lilith’s hair. “If you hadn’t jumped in there, our little girl might have been crushed.” She smiles over at Lilith like calling her “our little girl” is some sort of compliment or like the kid is completely mentally vacant. It’s probably a bit of both.

“Just seemed like the right thing to do,” I mutter. Clearly it was the right thing to do; the surprise came from the fact that no one else had done it.

For her part, Lilith just stares at the road ahead, not really responding except by stroking the contented Poe.

“What did you get up to last night?” Penelope asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

I glance at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she says, not taking her eyes off the road. “I saw you come into the sideshow, but I never saw you leave. And I was in that tank for quite a long time. I find it to be relaxing.” She says the last bit like it’s some secret, as though swimming in a tank for a crowd of gawking people is her idea of a spa day.

A beat passes. My brain is too tired to try and come up with a suitable answer. I hadn’t gone back to my trailer until the second act was nearly over, and although I’d gone to bed right away, I couldn’t sleep at all. She’s got me cornered, but she doesn’t seem to realize it.

Apparently my lack of an answer is enough for her.

“It was a curious night, was it not?” she continues.

“I guess so.” I wish she’d just let me sleep. There’s no way I’m going to make it out of this conversation without sticking my foot in something.

“Did you run into Mab last night?”

I can’t help but jerk my head to look at her. She’s still not looking at me, though, and her voice is light.

“I only ask because I saw her enter Alligator Alley a few moments before you. It’s quite rare that she makes an appearance backstage. Especially with company. That man she was with…perhaps she found another plaything.”

Of course Penelope would have seen Mab and the man go backstage. I do my best to look completely unfazed. Disinterested.

“Didn’t see her,” I lie, and pray I’m getting better at it.

For a horrifying moment, I envision Lilith saying that she and I were hiding out under one of the trailers, spying on Mab, but she doesn’t seem to be paying us any attention.

“Hmm, well, they didn’t come out the same way either. They must have found something worth exploring.” She giggles to herself, and I lean back against the seat. I close my eyes. Just let me sleep. I really couldn’t care less if Penelope thinks Mab was screwing dangerous-looking Scandinavians.

“I’ve been wondering,” she says, after I’ve had just enough time to drift. “The terms of your contract, what are they?”

I sigh. Force myself awake. There’s no point trying anymore; Penelope wants company. And she certainly won’t get any juicy stories out of Lilith.

“I don’t know,” I say as I watch the road signs fly past.

“You don’t know?” she asks. There’s an incredulous note in her voice I don’t like.

“I don’t remember,” I say. “All I remember is signing the contract.”

“Interesting,” she says, almost a purr. “ Remembering one’s contract is often a part of the contract itself, lest people forget why they joined on in the first place. I wonder if she had Kingston — ” Then she catches herself, though the slip seems far from unintentional, and switches subject. “No matter. The past is the past, after all.”

Lilith stirs beside me, making it impossible for me to concentrate on this new piece of information.

“Kingston. Kingston is pretty. King, king, king of hearts.” Her words are quiet, barely a whisper to her cat.

“He is pretty,” I say. Lilith is nearly a teenager, but I feel like I’m talking to a baby. “But I think he and Mel are a thing.”

Penelope laughs, then, which sounds horribly loud in the cab. When she finally gets herself under control, she throws me a glance and a devious smile.

“Oh, my dear,” she says, “I think not. Melody is, well. Melody plays for the other team, if you know what I mean.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Melody’s gay?”

“You didn’t realize?” she says. “Your brain must be more addled than I expected. Haven’t you noticed how she looks at you? No, Kingston and Melody are not a thing. He hasn’t been in a serious relationship for at least a dozen years. Trust me, I know everything in this company.”