I know, too, that I can no longer play the innocent victim.
I feel Lilith getting closer. I don’t know how, but I know I’m near. I know precisely where to go. I pull off the highway and down a dirt road, empty fields surrounding me. There’s a barn in the distance and a small copse of trees. Even from here I know that that’s where they’re hiding.
There’s no point trying to sneak up and take Lilith by surprise. There’s no one else out here and the plume of dust in my wake gives me away like a flare. So I skid to a halt in front of the barn and jump out of the car, the door slamming shut behind me as I run toward where Lilith is keeping Austin hostage. Blood hammers in my ears, louder than the crunch of my feet on the gravel. I round the barn and there they are, exactly as I saw them. Lilith in front of her pile of ash, Austin bound to the tree.
She’s staring straight at me when I come into sight. Like I said, no ninja surprise attack this time. I want her to know I’m here before I kick her ass.
She stands smoothly, wipes the dust from her white dress, which just smudges the crisp cotton. There are burn marks in the fabric as well; more fissures line her face, more streaks of cooled magma. She is a doll recently cracked, and I know there’s no hope for repair.
My eyes are glued to her, but I can see Austin’s eyes widen when he spots me. He struggles. Lilith just grins.
“It took you long enough,” she says, her head tilted to the side. Her voice sends chills up my spine—it’s some strange mix of Lilith and Kassia, little girl and vengeful demon. It rings through my bones, and I almost expect it to set the barn on fire. “I was starting to get bored playing with him.” She twitches her hand. Her palm splices as lava drips out, instantly cooling into a long, sharp blade. “We were just about to play a different game. Perhaps you’d like to join us?” Her grin widens, cracks up to her ears. “Although I hear you’ve lost your touch. You’re not much of an opponent now, are you Oracle?”
That’s when I notice the bruises on Austin’s face, the trail of dried blood from his nose. My resolve cracks like the fissures in Lilith’s skin.
“You’d be surprised,” I say, and open to my power.
It’s more than magic. More than blood or starlight or hate. It is power, divine and vengeful, and that brilliant light billows inside me like a wildfire, like a sun. Power floods into my hand, blooms like a golden rose. And with every ounce of hatred I hold toward her, I fling it at Lilith. Light blinds.
Her scream levels mountains. Barn wood cracks, the oak tree splinters. The noise is hell unleashed, anger and surprise and pain. But when the light dies down and my rage simmers, Lilith is still standing.
Though it’s no longer entirely Lilith.
In the back of my mind, some part of me feels the ruby holding her powers crack. Not fully. The stone, I know, is as mangled as she is, but it’s still holding the demon at bay. It’s still keeping her from ending the world. For the most part. The pieces of power that slipped through the cracks of her prison are more than enough to raze cities.
She stands before me, her dress torn, one arm charred grey stone, the other pale white and cracked like porcelain. Her black hair is wrapped in flame and her once-green eyes melt red. She steps forward, her tiny black shoes kicking through the ash at her feet. When she smiles, a chunk of flesh falls from her face, twisting and disintegrating before reaching the ground.
“Oracle,” she says. She actually sounds pleased, like I’m a long-awaited guest finally coming for tea. “You are back. Now we can really play.”
“Let him go,” I say. Although the power’s faded, it isn’t gone. I still feel it, ever ready to be tapped. Now that I have it, I’ll never let it go. Not again. How had I ever felt complete before?
“No,” she replies. “I was just beginning to have fun with him.” She turns her head toward him, her neck cracking as it twists 180 degrees. “Weren’t we having fun, Austin?”
He doesn’t speak, of course, but his eyes are wide and trained on me.
“He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
Her head snaps back around.
“It doesn’t matter!” she yells. She takes a step forward, her tiny fists balled. “It’s only fair that I take him. You’ve taken everything from me.”
“I’ve done nothing to you,” I respond. I build the starlight in my hand, let power flutter through my veins. “It was all Mab’s doing. Mab and Oberon. Your war is with them, not me. Not the mortal world.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t you see? This is my world. This is where I was born. I was tricked into entering Faerie. For that, the kingdoms will pay. And there was a time, yes, when I would have let the mortals live. But then you came along. You, my old enemy. You, who took the one person I wanted.”
Of course. Kingston.
“I don’t want him,” I say. I can’t tell if I mean it or not, and I’m sure as hell not about to tell her that I have to stay in the show with him. I just hope the ruse works. “Let Austin go and you can have Kingston. He means nothing to me.”
“No,” she says. “He loves you. He will always love you. You took him from me. And now, I will take Austin from you.”
She gestures with her charred hand to the tree. The vines tighten. Austin screams.
“No!” I shout. I rush forward and tackle her to the ground, light flaring from my palms, burning into her flesh. But she is laughing, laughing maniacally as my rage pours into her. As Austin screams and chokes.
“Is that all you have, Oracle?” she laughs. “Is that all you can do?” Even though starlight breaks through my hands, even though her skin sizzles, she isn’t writhing in pain. She stares up at me with dead red eyes, and the power in my chest falters with her calm. “You’ll never win this battle, Vivienne. You are weak. You have always been weak. And now, your lover will die because of your weakness. Just like your sister, he’ll die because of you. Hear him scream. Hear your failure.”
That’s when the gag around Austin’s mouth gives way. His cries shred through my ears.
“Vivienne!” he chokes, and then the screams cut short.
I jump off of her, run over to Austin and try to rip the vines from his body. They won’t budge. Even with all this power, all this rage, Lilith is stronger. She’s winning. Austin’s eyes roll up toward the back of his head; blood bubbles from his lips.
“Stop this.” Kingston’s voice cuts through the bloodshed. It stills my heart and the constricting vines. What the hell is he doing here?
“Let him go,” he tells Lilith. His words immediately take effect. The vines covering Austin go slack, and I rip them away as fast as I can. Austin rolls into my arms, limp, almost lifeless. But there’s still a pulse. He’s alive.
“You…you’re back,” Lilith whispers.
I glance back toward them. Lilith stands a foot away from Kingston; her broken body seems altogether fragile, like the merest breeze could spirit her away. Kingston stands with his hands in his pockets, staring down at her. There’s a tightness to his face I haven’t seen for a long time, a resolve that makes my heart ache.
“I am,” is all he says. His eyes flicker to me, but he doesn’t tell her I brought him back. His mouth becomes a thin line.
“It was a lie,” he continues. He makes sure to look at me when he says it. “I never loved Vivienne, Lilith. How could I? She’s too weak.”
I don’t care if it’s a ruse to save us. I don’t care that I’ve tried to shut my heart to him. It doesn’t even matter that Austin is in my arms. Hearing his words hurts like hell.
He kneels down in front of her.
“I love you, Lilith. We are creatures of power, you and I. I came back for you. To burn with you. Forever.”
Then he reaches out and pulls her to him. When they kiss, the earth around them burns.
The kiss lasts far too long, but when it ends, it’s Lilith who pulls back. Her words sear through the landscape.
“Oh, Kingston, I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that. But I kno
w your heart. I know you still love her. Just as I know she loves you.”
She steps back and looks from me to him.
“Your lies won’t save her. And they won’t save you. You are right. I am a creature of power. Unlike you. And I am not afraid to wield it.”
She leans forward, drags one charred finger under his chin. I can practically feel her ruby prison cracking all the way back at the tent.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your death is quick. That’s more than I can say for the rest of them.”
She stands then and walks toward me.
“Prepare yourself, Oracle. My friends are coming. To play.”
There’s a billow of fire around her, a flash of hellish light. When the smoke clears, Lilith is gone.
Chapter Twenty-One: Some Unholy War
The silence after her departure is thicker than tar. Kingston stands shakily and walks over to me.
“So much for that trick,” he mutters. He stops a foot or so away. “He still alive?”
I nod. This feels wrong, so wrong, and I know it’s not going to get any better.
He reaches out and presses his hand to Austin’s knee. Faint blue light trickles out from Kingston’s fingertips, wrapping around Austin’s leg and up into his chest.
“A few broken ribs. Nothing I can’t fix,” Kingston says. He glances at me. “You should leave him here. It’ll be safer. The fight will be back at the tent.”
Neither of us mentions anything about what he said to Lilith. There’s no need. The air between us is a wound, raw and terrible and infected. Even though agreeing with him on this is the last thing I want to do, he has a point. Austin is a liability.
I nod.
“I can enchant the ground,” he says. “Make it hallow. No faerie will be able to enter.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he responds.
I set Austin gently on the ground and stand, then step next to Kingston who raises his hand and starts muttering something. Shards of light drift from his fingertips and encircle Austin in a glowing silver dome. The magic is done a moment later, the dome vanishing into nothing.
“He won’t wake up until you touch him,” he says. He stares at Austin with an incomprehensible look on his face. “And this place is abandoned. He’ll be safe.”
“Kingston, about earlier…”
“What did you mean?” he asks. “About choosing me. When was there a choice?”
I bite my lip and look at Austin. Austin, who represented everything I wanted before the show—the comfort, the love, the contented home. He was the choice I should have made. Might have made. If not for my pact with Oberon.
When I look back to Kingston, though, I realize it’s not just duty making this decision. Kingston is the rush, the promise of daring love and years under the spotlight. Maybe we’ll never get that back. Maybe knowing about Austin will throw an eternal wrench in our gears. But Kingston, my magical, bastard Kingston, makes Austin pale in comparison.
And in that moment, I wonder: If I didn’t have powers but still had the chance to run away to the circus, would I have done it? Would I have given Austin up for the chance at the glamour?
A part of me thinks I would have. The rest of me looks at Austin and isn’t so sure.
“Mab gave me my freedom,” I say. “When this is over.”
“And you’re going to stay? Why?”
I look at him. I can’t lie, but I don’t have time to tell him about Oberon and the pact.
“It’s complicated,” I say. “I’ll explain after. If we make it through.”
He sighs and looks to the horizon, toward the big top. “We should go.”
I nod.
Kingston reaches over then and loops his fingers in mine. The familiarity is there, but something in the touch feels off, now. Broken. I don't think it will ever mend.
For some reason, I don’t pull away.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For everything. I’ll try to make it right.”
And then his power floods us. The world shifts.
* * *
There’s a deadly sort of calm back at the tent. I had expected chaos, fire, like the last time Lilith went insane and Oberos attacked. But, instead, there’s order. And when Kingston and I walk up to the chapiteau, no longer holding hands, it becomes clear why.
Melody stands in front of the troupe. She’s in camo, complete with heavy black boots and a beret over her pixie-cut hair. The only thing she’s missing is a riding crop. The members of the troupe are lined up like soldiers, straight at attention. No one speaks as Mel paces before them, giving a speech about honor and duty and getting out of this shit alive. She stops when she sees us. The troupe turns.
Hers isn’t the only gasp.
“You’re alive,” she says. And that’s when I realize Kingston never told the others he was back. That realization makes my heart twinge. Weapons don’t ache. Weapons don’t regret.
Melody runs over and Kingston fills the gap. She’s already in tears when she leaps into his arms.
Their reunion is short-lived. He sets her down after a quick spin and she punches him in the shoulder.
“Ass,” she says, sniffing. “You could have told me.”
He shrugs and glances at me. She follows his gaze.
“I promised you an army,” she says. She walks over and wraps me in a hug, whispers in my ear, “I called them to arms the moment Lilith went missing. I checked; her ruby’s broken, Viv. She’s free.”
“I know,” I whisper back. “I know. And the rest of the demons are coming as well.”
And then, as if on cue, flames billow just beyond the chapiteau, right on the boundary of the magic that keeps us immortal. It’s not Lilith who steps out of the flames, though. It’s Oberon. Melody steps back, takes my hand in her firm grip. The troupe bristles in anticipation.
“Oracle,” Oberon says, his gaze switching from me to Kingston. “And the magician, back from the dead. How…fitting.”
“Go home, Oberon,” I say. “You can’t win this war.”
“Actually, I think you’ll find I can.”
The demons erupt from the flames like heathen gods, their split skin and burning eyes filled with rage. But it’s just his children; Kassia is nowhere to be seen.
“You have lost your ace, Oracle. The demons follow me, and they will not stop killing until the Winter Court crumbles.” He takes a step forward, away from the demons, and drops his voice. “You could have prevented this, Vivienne. All I asked for was your love. All of this bloodshed could have been avoided. But now, every death falls on your shoulders.”
More creatures stir from the writhing flames, satyrs and wood nymphs, faerie lights and moving statues. There’s a roar, and the chimera leaps forth from the inferno, its goat and lion heads snapping, its serpent tale cocked for murder—the beast is nearly as big as the tent.
“Where is your Winter Queen?” Oberon taunts. “Has she left you to fight her battles once more?”
“No,” comes Mab’s voice. “The Winter Queen is here. And she will watch your lifeblood seep into the ground.”
I glance back. Mab strides from the shadows, once more in her leather armor, her black whip seeping shadows through the grass like oil. But she’s not alone, and her companion makes me freeze. Lilith strides at her side, back in her baby-doll dress and innocent body; she clutches one of Mab’s hands in hers, skipping like she’s going on a picnic and not a massacre. What the hell is she doing here? Why isn’t she in full-on demon mode?
I don’t know what I expected from this, the final showdown. It definitely wasn’t the calm among the troupe: Melody and Kingston at my side, the entire Summer Kingdom in front of me and our measly troupe of performers and killers at my back. No screams, no battle charges. Just this stalemate as Oberon flexes his army's muscles. Melody reaches over and takes my hand in hers. I see Kingston glance at me from the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t reach out. I clench my hand instead, pull in starlight and st
rength. Light glows between my fingertips.
“I see you’ve brought backup,” Mab says, nodding toward Oberon’s army. “Are you scared of little old me?”
“Fear has nothing to do with it,” Oberon says, striding closer, his brown robes untouched by the cinders at his feet. “I want my kingdom to be there when the breath is burned from your sinful lungs.”
Mab laughs, high and clear, and the air itself seems to darken.
“Oh, you are one to speak of sin, aren’t you? Good King Oberon, savior of mortal and Fey alike.” She laughs again, this time more sinisterly. “And yet your hands are bloodier than mine, aren’t they old friend?”
“Mind your tongue, woman,” Oberon warns.
“Or what?” she asks. “What will you do? Lock me in a box for a thousand years? Bury me underground like you did to your children? Oops.” She brings a hand to her mouth. “Oh dear, looks like the cat’s out of the bag.”
Cortis looks to Oberon. “What is she talking about, father?”
“Lies,” Oberon hisses. His eyes are tight, and he glares at Mab and me. When he reaches into the pocket of his robes, I can’t help but wonder if the action’s unconscious. Then I kick myself; if I had spared the watch, maybe I could have shown it to the demons. Maybe I could have turned them against Oberon. “You were the one who stole into their room and took them away, you were the reason their mother died.”
“Ironic, as I have no recollection of those events. I believe I had a show to run.”
The Immortal Circus: Final Act (Cirque des Immortels) Page 21
