Free The Immortal Circus: Act Two by A. R. Kahler Page A

Even from
yourself.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but I’m
suddenly acutely aware of the note Sheena gave me, still tucked away in my
Tarot pouch. Was Lilith eavesdropping on that too?
    “He is coming,” Lilith sings. “The Broken King is marching,
marching, marching out to get you.”
    She starts to do a little twirl.
    “Lilith,” Kingston begins. But she stops mid-twirl and
stares at him.
    “I did not forget,” she whispers. “How you hurt me. I did
not forget that. No, no. He will come for you as well. And when he does, I will
laugh and play. The Broken King will kill you both, and I will laugh and play.”
    She completes the spin and then leaves the tent, bouncing
and humming with every step.
    When she’s gone, Kingston squeezes his eyes shut. It’s only when
he loosens his grip on my leg that I realize he’s been clutching it with white
knuckles.
    “What the hell was that all about?” I ask.
    “She’s getting worse,” he whispers.
    “I noticed.”
    He doesn’t ask me about secrets. He, like me, has probably
already had his fill. He fishes around in the pocket of his shorts and pulls
out a cigarette. I can’t tell whether it was there or if he manifested it
through magic. It’s already smoldering when he brings it to his lips.
    “Who is the Broken King?” I ask.
    “Oberon,” Kingston says. The word sounds like a curse,
especially under the big top; I expect crows to caw or lightning to strike. If
anything, the air just seems to grow a little warmer.
    “Why did she call him that?”
    “Because,” he says, “the Summer Court’s falling apart.
Oberon’s claim to the throne grows weaker every day. His people don’t think
he’s fit to rule, not with Mab dominating the Dream. His kingdom is broken, and
he’s broken too.”
    I watch the smoke that trails from his cigarette, inhale the
familiar scent of cinnamon and brimstone. Just that tiny whiff is enough to
make my lungs tingle and burn. In a good way.
    “And that’s why he’s coming after us,” I say. I almost say me, but I catch myself. Kingston’s eyes flicker over me, but he doesn’t press
it.
    “So it seems,” he says. Another deep inhale. The smoke that
trails from his lips on the exhale reminds me of serpents or vines. I’m harshly
reminded of the talk he gave, months ago, on the dynamics of faerie sustenance.
It’s hard to imagine that here, under the lights of the big top, we’re
manipulating an entire economy. That our existence might be destroying a whole
realm.
    I stare at the smoke and wonder how we’ve gotten so far off
topic. I’m still churning inside. Austin’s a ghost I can’t exorcise, and I
don’t want to. It’s not that I want to find emotion for him—Kingston’s
everything I could have wanted and more. It’s just that … Austin’s a link to
everything I chose to forget. And right now, it feels like my past has a
frighteningly large impact on my future.

Chapter Six
Kill the Lights
    “You’re going to fall in love, soon,” I say, glancing up from the cards spread out in
front of me. It’s twenty minutes before the evening’s first show.
I’m back in my gypsy wear and trying to focus on the present—and not
how creeped out I am over the idea of Lilith listening in behind the
walls of the booth. The woman on the other side of the table doesn’t tear
her eyes from the spread. She’s mid-forties, with a few streaks of silver in her
hair and one of those thin tie-dye blouses that went out of style in the seventies.
“Someone tall and fair-skinned. There will be much happiness.”
    Melody told me, when I first signed on, that I needed to get
better at lying. She doesn’t tell me that anymore.
    She’s watched me work.
    Now, lying is all part of the job. Hell, it feels like it’s
the only thing I do anymore, not that I’m complaining. The lies are what are
keeping me alive. Sane. Besides, my gig is fortune teller, not counselor. The
woman sitting across from