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

he says. I can only imagine how
thrilled she’ll be at another visit and another kink in her carefully preened
contracts.
    I nod. He doesn’t see it, of course, but I can’t speak. All
I can see is the look in Lilith’s eyes the moment I gave over to that flood of
power, the shock and fear and pain. The tingling is gone, but I don’t trust
myself to move. I definitely don’t trust myself to touch him. Not now. Ever
again? The thought flitters through my head like a curse.
    “I need to go,” he says.
    I hear him move and can almost feel him shift closer to hug
me before he stops himself. Even in the darkness, I can imagine his brown eyes
are filled with concern. At least, I hope it’s concern. I don’t want to believe
he could be looking at me with shock or fear. Or disgust.
    “I’ll talk to her,” he says. “Just don’t … don’t …”
    He sighs and ducks from the booth. I sit there in the dark,
staring at my hands, and wait for them to glow again, wait for something to
make sense.
    They don’t. Nothing does.
    “Shit,” I whisper. It sounds like a sob.
    The ache in my head is back, and I start shaking
uncontrollably. This is too much, too much. The Broken King is coming for
you. Maybe I should let him take me.
    Before I lose control and hurt someone.
*
    Kingston doesn’t come back. I don’t see him during
intermission or after the final curtain call. He isn’t changing out back when I
find Melody and Sara and offer to buy the wine tonight. He isn’t anywhere to be
seen, and Mab’s just as absent. And so I sit beside Mel and Sara and try to
pretend nothing happened. I try to drink away the ache in my head for fear that
if I let it go, it will lead to something else. I try to laugh as the Shifters
joke, try to convince myself that maybe this is them letting me into their
world again. But when the night dies down and the fire is ashes and everyone is
making out or passed out, I’m hit with the terrible realization that I’m still
on the outside. And without Kingston, I’ve got nothing.
    It sickens me, really, and not just the wine and the
headache. As I walk back to my trailer, I’m acutely aware of how isolated I am:
not just from the people around me, but from my past. I have nothing to hold on
to, nothing to make me feel complete. And that—my mind swirls—that makes me
want to know more. I don’t want to be the girl that’s with the guy because
without him she’s nothing. I want to be the girl who’s with the guy because
she’s powerful and he’s powerful and they’re powerful together.
    I have no memories of what I was. And right now, I have no
one to hold me here. I am drunk and adrift, and right now I just wish I could
go back to the beginning and undo coming here. Because I’m alone. I’m alone,
and it feels like it’s only going to get worse from here on out.
    I curl up in bed and stare at my hands in the dark. The
headache throbs.
    “I just want to know,” I whisper.
    And between my fingertips—a spark.

Chapter Seven
Bad Blood
    “What did you find out?”
    Kingston pauses in the door, clearly surprised I’m awake at
this hour of the day. I would be surprised at myself too, if not for the whole
neighbor-being-a-yoga-addict thing. My head’s ringing, but not with the same
intensity as yesterday. It just feels like a hangover. I hope it’s just a
hangover.
    “Nothing,” he says. He steps inside and lets the door close
behind him. He looks like he didn’t sleep at all.
    “Nothing?”
    He shrugs and moves over to the bed, sits down beside me.
Our fingers touch.
    “We went over your contract line by line. Everything’s still
in order. Your powers are still under lock and key.”
    “ Should be.” I twine my fingers around his. He
reaches back. “Any chance you can tell me what those powers are?”
    After that initial spark last night, I wasn’t able to summon
another flare up. Just a headache that threatened to tilt into a full-on
migraine had I not passed out soon