The Immortal Circus: Final Act (Cirque des Immortels) (18 page)

Darkness is empty and cold. Darkness smells like grave dust and stale air. Darkness glints at the edges, and suddenly the dark glimmers with cyan light.

I’m lying flat on my back, the earth smooth and cold beneath me. I take a deep breath in and out, watch as the air turns crystalline on my exhale.

“The bird woman lives,” comes a voice to my left, and I know in that moment precisely where I am.

Mab saunters over, her sheer black dressing gown hemmed in white fur and cinched with studded black leather. The room grows more distinct with every footstep, as though her movement weaves it into being: stalagmites burrow up from the smooth stone floor, silver stalactites drip from the ceiling. Snow drifts against every angle; the cavern is black and silver and dusty white, everything glinting in the light that glows faintly from the ice itself, as pale and blue as a frozen lake at dusk.

“You’ve done well,” she says. Although her words are congratulatory, her voice is tight. Dark shadows haunt her ageless eyes. “But I’m afraid you’ve brought the army with you.”

I push myself up to sitting. So much for a celebration.

“What do you mean?” I ask. I don’t hear the sounds of warfare, nor do I smell the telltale burn of demon brimstone.

“Oberon,” she says. “Your escape was far from seamless.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, shaking my head. “The war was inevitable.”

Her eyes narrow.

“Now you’re starting to sound like me,” she muses. “But you are wrong. The war was inevitable, yes, but the spoils were not. You made a deal with Oberon. A deal to keep your friends and the show safe.”

“How did you know?” I ask.

She points to the ring on my hand. The emerald holding my memories goes warm.

“Stone resonates,” she says. “It was a desperate move, bargaining your future self for the safety of your friends. One I’m not exactly pleased to hear you made.”

“I did what I had to do,” I say. “What do you mean, I brought the army with me?”

“He noticed your escape,” she says. “Now, he’s not just fighting to destroy me. He’s fighting to destroy you. Before, there was a chance of you getting out of this alive. Now, even if you win the war, there will be assassins at your throat for the rest of your life—in the show or not. You thought it was bad when Penelope was manipulating contracts. That’s nothing compared to what the Summer King will do. As I’m sure you’ve learned, his treachery runs deeper than blood.”

My stomach drops a few notches, the image of the demon children sitting at their table burning through my mind. I have to stay alive. That’s when I remember the illusions from Tír na nÓg, the comfort of Austin, the glamour of Kingston. I hoped that after this journey I’d have some time to figure out which future I’d choose.

Now, it seems like the choice is already made. I have to stay with the show, with Kingston. Otherwise I damn myself to a short life of happiness with Austin and an eternity with Oberon and his demonic brats.

I shake the illusions of future lives from my head. There’s still a war to win. A war I have every intention of getting out of alive.

“It won’t matter once I’m done with them,” I say, cold steel sheathing my voice. “Oberon’s controlling them because he deceived them into thinking you turned them into demons. He made a Construct in your likeness and used it to kill their mother. Oberon deserves to die even more than his children.” I look her dead in the eyes. “Give me my powers back, and I’ll deliver you the victory you desire. Over Lilith, over the demons, over Oberon himself. I’ll make the Summer King bow at your feet before he takes his final breath.”

Mab’s hand actually goes to her chest. It’s not a mocking gesture, either. She takes a half step back and looks at me, her expression guarded, like she’s examining a dog she just learned was feral.

“What happened to you in there?” she whispers.

“You wanted a weapon. That’s what you got. Now give me back my powers and let me do what you hired me for.”

She hesitates for a moment. Then she takes a long, slow breath.

“As you wish. I will take you to Kingston.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say she sounds a little afraid. Of me.

She gestures me off of the stone slab and guides me through the cavern, around snow drifts and stone, past glittering crystals twice my height that glow unearthly blue. I have to fight myself with every step. I know what we’re walking toward. I know what I’ve seen in both of my futures. But my heart still hasn’t settled on either man. This destiny still feels like a date with an ex.

When we round a stalagmite the size of semi, my heart stops with a jolt.

Kingston lies in front of us, supported by a slanted crystal the size of a phone booth. He looks like a masculine sleeping beauty; snow drifts at the crystal’s base, and light halos him in a heavenly glow. He looks peaceful there, garbed in a flowing black linen shirt and pants. Zal is curled up on his chest in golden form, asleep and content as a kitten. Zal’s light illuminates Kingston’s neck: There’s no slash there. He’s healed. Whole. But he still appears to be stone dead.

Now that we’re here, facing Kingston, facing the inevitable, a part of me wants to delay it as long as possible. I know it’s stupid. I know I need my powers to destroy Oberon, and I need Kingston to win the war. But he’s still dead, and time in the mortal world is still suspended. I could exist here forever, if I wanted. If Mab let me.

Mab notices my pause.

“Let me guess,” she says. “You followed the music.”

“I had no choice,” I respond. I can’t take my eyes off of Kingston, and I don’t think I’d want to even if I could. In spite of everything, he still manages to take my breath away. “I ran into my sister.”

“The lost children,” she muses. “It’s rare they get the chance to confront their killers. I think your presence in the Wildness would have drawn them from across the globe. Did you meet the Honey Court?”

I can’t help but laugh. Those are words I never expected to hear leave her lips. It sounds even more ludicrous than when Meadowsweet said it.

“Yes, then,” she says. She smiles in spite of herself. “Well, remember, all Fey have an agenda. Some just aren’t as overt about it as I. Whatever illusions she showed you in Tír na nÓg are just that; their entire kingdom feeds off the wishes of mortals. Your future is still yours to craft.”

“About that,” I say.
Delay, delay!
“Why aren’t you trying to kill her? Is she next on your hit list?”

She shrugs. “Ants build huge colonies underground, but do you fear or fight them? No—their actions are inconsequential; killing them off would put things out of balance. The realm of Faerie is boundless and filled with many smaller tribes and kingdoms. They know that so long as they stay out of my hair, they are barely more than a blip on my radar. However, we are not here to discuss politics.” She grins at me, as though she knows I’m just trying to stall. “After all, weapons have no need for theory. They just need a wielder. And Kingston will be your hand.”

“Why isn’t he waking up?” I ask. We walk until we’re only a few steps away. If I wanted, I could lean over and touch him.

“You’ve read the faerie tales,” she says. “His soul is in place, his body is healed. But he’s still waiting for the kiss of his one true love to rouse him.”

I glance at her and she shrugs.

“Oh, fine, who am I kidding? This isn’t Disney, after all; we can’t be too picky. Any kiss will do. I just thought it would be more fitting if I let you do the honors.”

I look to Kingston, let my eyes trace his face, his lips. He looks even paler than usual. My heart races. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him, weeks since I’ve truly felt his touch. Yet, with the illusions of Tír na nÓg burning in my mind, it feels like yesterday.

Zal stirs, cocks his head up, and gives me a pleading sort of look.

“The clock is ticking,” Mab says. “I can turn away if you’re feeling prudish.”

I glare at her. I look back to Kingston.

There’s no more stalling. It’s time to face the man I thought I’d lost. Time to choose between him and the man who never let me go. We have a war to win. Emotions come after.

My pulse hammers in my ears as I step closer, my heart trying to burst from my chest. Even in death, he still smells faintly of his cologne.

I reach down and brush a strand of black hair from his eyes, let my fingers trace his cold jaw. Then, with a deep, shaky breath, I lean over and press my lips to his.

The moment we kiss, my world explodes in starlight.

Our kiss is more than just a kiss. It’s the heat of a thousand falling stars, the swirl of galaxies, the endless pulse of the cosmos. I float in the power, in the ecstasy, my lips melding into Kingston’s, our existences becoming, in that moment, one.

Then there’s a gasp against my lips. I pull back.

Kingston’s eyes are open, darting around, trying to make sense of the dimness. There’s a pink flush to his pale cheeks. I take a few steps back and stare at him, watch his chest heave with newfound vitality. Zal is ecstatic, twisting and writhing above Kingston’s body, sparks flying off like the poor thing’s molting with excitement.

“I…I…” Kingston stutters.

Just hearing his voice is enough to knock me to my knees. I can’t take my eyes off Kingston, my Kingston, and I feel the walls I’d erected in his absence crumble to the ground with me. In that moment, I realize…Austin never had a chance.

“I can’t move,” he manages to say. His eyes dart over to Mab. “Why can’t I move?”

“You were dead, dear,” she replies. She steps over to him and places a hand on his forehead. “For a few weeks, in fact. Deep breaths. You remember this from last time.”

Last time? He’s been dead before?
But the thought fades the moment his gaze fixes on me.

“Vivienne,” he says. And in that word, my name, are a thousand different emotions and pleas, all laced into three simple syllables.

“Hi,” I mutter weakly. My hand doesn’t leave my chest, the race of my heart so tangible it hurts. Everything else was a dream. One long, terrible dream. The moment our eyes lock, it feels like I, too, am waking up.

“I missed you,” he says. Then he looks back to Mab, and he’s all business. “What’s going on?”

“A great deal, I’m afraid. Remember Oberon’s children? The ones he told us had drowned?”

“Yeah.”

“They didn’t. Oberon turned them into demons and framed me in the process.” She clucks her tongue. “And here we thought he didn’t have it in him to be wicked.” She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at me. “In light of this, I’ve made a few changes to Vivienne’s contract. I’m giving her back her powers.”

Kingston’s eyes narrow.

“It’s that bad?” he asks.

“Worse,” Mab replies

No one speaks after that. The cavern is eerily silent, the only sound a whisper of distant breezes that tongue their way through the dark. I keep looking from Mab to Kingston, wondering what they’ve conspired together, and feel my heart tighten. There are still secrets hidden behind his eyes.

Austin didn’t have secrets,
some small voice in me whispers.
And he still needs you.

But I push that away. I’m a weapon. Weapons don’t make choices; they wound where they are wielded.

Kingston groans, snapping me from thoughts of Austin. His fingers clench and unclench on the crystal, his nails grating against the stone.

“There you are,” Mab says. “The rest of you will be in prime condition shortly.” She winks and casts me a sidelong look. “Most of you, at least.”

I shake my head and push myself up to standing. Sex is the last thing on my mind right now. Especially sex with a man who should be dead.

“What about my powers?” I ask. If I can focus on business, I can keep my emotions down.
I am a weapon. Just a weapon
. “I brought him here; he’s alive again. We still have an army to destroy.”

Kingston shares a look with Mab. I know that look. He’s concerned.

“I told you it was worse than expected,” Mab says. She doesn’t sound entirely amused, either. Then she looks back to me.

“I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple,” she continues. “Magic has rules, after all. And this is no exception.”

I glare at her as I feel a trap snaring around me.

“What do you mean?”

“An exchange,” she says. “Merely an exchange. I locked away your powers in exchange for your service.”

“And I rescued Kingston in exchange for my powers,” I say. Anger rises inside of me. Of course she wouldn’t make this easy. I was stupid to think we were finally on the same team.

“Not quite,” she says. She takes a few steps over to me, until she’s only a foot away. Perfect punching distance. When she looks up at me, however, there’s a note of victory in her eyes—one I know no physical violence will ever wipe off. “You rescued him in exchange for your freedom. Which, once this little war is over, you shall have. But there still must be an exchange for your powers. Something meaningful, otherwise the magic won’t hold.” Her emerald eyes bore into mine. “I wonder, what could one with nothing to lose possibly give in exchange?”

“Mab,” Kingston begins, but she snaps up a hand and he goes silent.

“This is between your lover and me,” she says, not tearing her eyes from mine. I couldn’t look at him if I tried. I’ve felt trapped by her before, but this is more than that. This is her peering into every inch of me, stripping away my past and future, trying to find just what will hurt me most. So much for us being on the same side. She’ll punish me until the day I die, and after that, for even trying to betray her. She makes a purring noise as she stares into my soul, her lip twitching into a sadistic grin. “There we go.”

There’s a satisfaction in her voice that puts every nerve on edge. Whatever she’s about to say, I already want to refute.

“I want your child.”

Her words are a hammer to my gut, but I’m not the only one to react. Kingston jolts upright, his body sparked into action.

“What?” he yells. His eyes dart from Mab to me and back again, the shock so clear on his face I almost want to laugh. Almost, except I can’t get the illusions from Tír na nÓg out of my head, the flashes of the children I could have. The daughter with Austin, the son with Kingston. “Vivienne, you’re pregnant?” His words are soft, almost as reverential as they are disbelieving.

“
Potential
child,” Mab says, still looking at me, still gauging my reaction. Still smiling. “Well?” she goads. “Tick tock.”

“I hate you,” I hiss.

“The feeling is, as ever, mutual,” she says. “But I’m afraid that’s not an answer.”

I grit my teeth.

“May I remind you,” she continues, “there’s every chance you won’t come out of this alive. And I suppose you could try to spite me by never giving birth—tragedy for your race though it would be.”

Her points are valid. No child, no risk.

“Mab, please.” It’s not me begging, though. It’s Kingston. We both look at him, and that’s when I realize he doesn’t know about Austin. He still thinks it’s just him, and that this would definitely be our kid.
You have a lot of catching up to do.
“Is there any other way? Let me give up something. Add on a few years to my contract, whatever. Just…not this. It’s cruel.”

“Magic is cruel,” she says, bringing her gaze back to me. “As is nature. And I am tied to both. I will give no other barter. You saved Kingston for your freedom. I demand your child for your powers.” She leans forward and lowers her voice, whispers in my ear, “You’ve already given up so much. Your present, your past, your future. What’s one more small sacrifice if it means getting the revenge you crave?”

“Vivienne,” Kingston pleads. I hear him shuffle off the crystal, then fall to the floor. “Please, this is insane. I’ve seen what happens to the kids Mab takes. Do you really want our kid to become like Penelope?”

A lance through my heart.
Our kid.
But there’s no time for that. I have to be a weapon. I have to be harder than steel. Otherwise there’s no way I’m making it out of this alive. There’s no way
any
of us will. But can I really put my child—if I have a child—through this?

“Why do you need my child?” I ask. I try to glare at her the same way she’s staring at me, but I know I don’t possess half of her intensity. “You could take anything else. What’s in this for you?”

She smiles, as though she’s delighted she’s taught me to barter like this, to read the fine print.

“You have nothing else. Yes, I could take a few years from your life. Maybe some dreams of childhood. Hell, if I wanted, I could take your soul from Oberon, but I quite like the trap you laid out for yourself. No, Vivienne, I neither need nor want anything else from you. Just your child.”

“But why?”

“Because. As I believed with you, I do with her. She will prove to be useful.” She chuckles. “And what can I say? It’s been too long since I’ve been a mother figure. Lilith has clearly grown into her own.”

I grit my teeth. Fine. I just won’t have a child. I’ll find a way to screw Mab over, one last time. One way or another, I won’t let her win. But I need my powers to even get to that point.

“Deal,” I say.

So, it’s good-bye to the illusions Meadowsweet showed me. At least I knew my children in those dreams and illusions. At least I know my resolve is strong enough to prevent ever giving Mab this one final victory: She’ll never take my child. I'll never give her one to steal.

Her smile widens like that of some whorish Cheshire cat. “Deal,” Mab says and turns to Kingston, gesturing him over. He walks slowly; I can’t tell if it’s trepidation or the aftereffects of his, well…deadness. Zal floats above him like a halo.

“How fitting,” she says, “the lovers joined at last. Here to take on the end of the world. Together. Poetic.”

Kingston is shaking a little, and maybe it’s from the cold or nerves or something more, but it makes me want to wrap him in a hug and tell him it will be okay. Even though Austin is waiting for me to help him, Kingston is still the one I lean toward. Even though his betrayals still ricochet through my head, there's magnetism between us, though whether it’s his faded magical compulsion or my own lovesick naïveté, I can't tell. Some habits die hard.

“As I said earlier,” she says, “your powers are safeguarded within Kingston. Now that he’s whole, he can return them to you.”

She looks back and forth at us. I can’t look Kingston in the eyes—there’s too much he doesn’t know because I have too many secrets of my own—so I look at Mab instead. I want to remember the pleasure on her face so, one day, revenge will be twice as sweet.

“I can’t exactly swear for the efficacy of this, Vivienne,” she says. “Before we met, your powers were erratic at best. Once you regain them, they may very well burn you up from the inside out. Hopefully this is not the case. It would be a shame to waste your talents so early in the game.”

She nods to Kingston. He glares at her but she just smiles in return. Then he holds out his hand without breaking her gaze. I examine his face, the stubble on his jaw, the infinitesimal worry lines at the corners of his eyes. I'd spent countless nights imagining his face, praying I'd see it again, but now…he looks older, somehow. Haggard. This is nowhere near the reunion I’d dreamed of before…before Austin showed up and everything went downhill.

When I take Kingston’s hand, his grip is as cold as that of the dead.

I expect Mab to say some hocus-pocus, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t say or do anything. It’s Zal that does the honors. The serpent glides down and wraps around our hands, binding us like golden rope. Then he settles on our skin, burns down deep, becomes a thick black ink stain stretching from Kingston’s flesh to mine. For a moment, that’s it.

Then the ink glows red.

“The deal is done,” I hear Mab whisper. “The Oracle awakens.”

Kingston’s grip burns, and the world erupts in flame.