Алекс Калер - The Immortal Circus (Cirque des Immortels)

“Mab’s trailer is protected,” she says. “It leads straight into the heart of the Winter Court, which no Summer Fey can enter. Stay in here until this little war is over and you will have your whole life ahead of you. A normal life. One worth living.” She puts a hand on my arm. I don’t flinch. I can’t make myself move. Endless nights, endless lies… “I’m on your side. Really.”

The trouble is, I believe her.

“Come on, Lilith,” she says, holding out a hand. Lilith takes it without a pause. “It’s time to go meet your new friends.”

“Friends?” she asks.

“Yes,” she says. She opens the door; outside, all I can see is a silvery haze. “They’ve been waiting a very, very long time to meet you.”

They step out and disappear in the fog. The door shuts.

I don’t move.

There’s a war going on outside the trailer and I don’t move a muscle. The adrenaline is gone, the incredible power has faded. I stand in Mab’s trailer, alone, the silence deafening. I don’t even feel like a coward. I just feel helpless.

The book of contracts sits before me. Just looking at it makes me feel naked, vulnerable. I know without a doubt that if I were to take a few more steps, I’d have my entire life laid out before me. I’d know why I came here in the first place. I’d know more about these powers and visions. But as I look at it, I can’t bring myself to move closer. Somewhere, there’s a small voice in the back of my brain that doesn’t want to know. Knowing hurts too much.

I could stay here.

I could wait out the battle and let Penelope hand over Lilith. Then we’d be free. Tomorrow would come and Kingston and Mel and I would be together and we could head off and make a new life. No circus, no contracts. Freedom. We’d age together, live normal lives, get an apartment, and get real jobs. We’d laugh and fight and flirt and everything would be like in here, but more real. It wouldn’t all feel like some grand illusion just waiting for the final curtain to fall.

I could stay here.

I could wait.

But then I imagine their faces when I tell them what happened, when Kingston pulls out the truth and learns I let Penelope win, when he realizes it’s my fault that Lilith was lost and everyone’s death was in vain, and no one was avenged. He would hate me. They both would. The scorn nearly tears me apart. I stare at the book on the table and feel the weight of this press on me with its terrible burden. If I do the right thing , I’ll save the circus but eventually lose everyone I care about. I’ll be stuck in here forever, or until I’ve served whatever purpose Mab has for me.

If I let this happen, if I let Penelope win, I’d lose everyone a hell of a lot sooner.

It’s not even a decision.

I turn and run from the trailer, hoping I catch Penelope before she reaches Oberos.

The world explodes into focus the moment I leave the trailer.

Flames leap across the sky and turn the entire world a sickening mix of yellow and red. Bodies litter the ground, some in flames, some mangled. Humanoid or overtly fey, the carnage is the same. The silence of the trailer gives way to the sounds of roars and screams. Even the earth heaves with tremors as the colossal Shifters and shadowy Night Terrors make battle with the Summer Fey. I look left and right and catch sight of Penelope as she drags Lilith to the edge of the cornfield. The battle rages around them, but their path is clear: no Summer Fey dares to attack them. I don’t have time to hesitate. I run.

I duck and weave against the throng of Summer Fey that surround the tent, trying to make my way toward Penelope. Lilith is walking calmly at her side, Poe right behind them. It’s almost like watching it in slow motion, the way they just keep getting farther away, the way everything moves like a dream. Then something clubs me over the back of the head and I yell out, stars bursting across my vision as I drop to my knees. Penelope doesn’t hear it, doesn’t stop. The cat does.

I can’t move, can’t bring myself to my knees as I call out for Lilith to come back, to fight. Another hit, to the side of my head this time, and I sprawl sideways across the ground. Warmth trickles from my skull. I taste blood. I watch them get farther away, watch Poe sit there and look between me and his master. They’re getting away. Penelope’s going to win. Something grinds into my ribs.

Then I see the Summer Faerie — an elf in leaflike armor with a giant sword — run past Poe. The elf stops, looks down, and with a sneer that makes my world go still, lops the cat’s head off.

Everything goes silent. All sound sucks from the world; a great void that hangs on one improbably long gasp. Rather than blood, rather than death, the cat just disintegrates in a cloud of red and grey ash. The only noise in the deafening quiet is the sound of burning.

Lilith drops to her knees.

Penelope stares at Lilith, then back. Her eyes lock on the elven knight, whose expression is slipping quickly from victorious to confused. She sees the puff of cinders, sees me on the ground. All this in a heartbeat. Then she screams.

That one noise seems to jump-start everything back into motion. I watch in horrid fascination as the ash that was once Poe flutters over to Lilith, swarming around her like moths. The dust settles on her skin, coats her entirely. Penelope backs away, but Lilith is quicker. Her hand darts out and latches on to Penelope’s ankle. Penelope screams again at the touch, screams like hell is trying to pull itself from her lips. Her ankle smokes, her jeans sear away under Lilith’s hand. The dust motes sink into Lilith’s skin, turn her even more pallid.

“I know what you would have done, Penelope McAllister.”

At first, I don’t register who’s speaking. The voice seems to come from everywhere. It burns inside my head, a simmering fire that heats my blood. It’s ancient. Powerful. Pissed.

Penelope’s still screaming, struggling, trying to get away, but Lilith’s grip doesn’t waver; her arm is still as stone.

“You would have had me killed.” Then I realize it’s Lilith. The memory of her prior outburst burns through my mind, the fire and chaos, and it all makes sense. Poe had been injured then, and Lilith went berserk. Now, Poe was dead. I didn’t need to know what was going on to know one very simple fact: whatever power Lilith had been hiding was now set free. Now, there would be nowhere on earth to hide from that hell.

Lilith’s hand twitches and Penelope’s ankle snaps. She jerks, nearly collapses, but before she can hit the ground her screams turn to gagging, and it’s not blood pouring from her mouth, but lava. It burns down her lips and shreds down her shirt, the scent of burning clothes and flesh heavier in the air than I’d ever thought possible. She stiffens, seizes. The gagging cuts short. Flames lick across her body as every inch of her incinerates. The process is fast and efficient, as though she’s made of oil-stained paper. Lilith slowly moves her hand away and stands, Penelope’s burning corpse casting her body in an eerie glow.

She turns.

Slowly.

So slowly.

And then she is facing me. She looks above me, past me, raises her arms to the sides as fire lances around her, flickering from the naked air in tongues and tendrils. Her next words echo in my head, make me wince with pain.

“I know what all fey would have done.”

Lilith goes insane.

The air around her turns white and red, flames billowing up in curtains that stretch toward the heavens. I can see her, barely, within the whorl of heat. She rises into the air like a fiery goddess. And when she reaches the peak of the chapiteau, she unleashes her chaos.