Read Online The Immortal Circus: Act Two by A. R. Kahler - Free Book Online

should be—“
    “Impossible,” I finish. “Just like everything that happened
before.”
    He looks at me, then.
    “Exactly,” he says.
    A beat passes, and it feels like I’m falling, like my
carefully constructed world of glitz and distraction is crumbling through my
fingers.
    “Kingston, what’s going on?” I ask.
    “I don’t know,” he says. He leans over and buries his head
against my neck, nuzzles my collar. “We’re falling apart, Viv. I feel like I’m
the only thing keeping us together. And not even that’s enough anymore.”
    I don’t want to know if he’s talking about the show in
general or about us.

Chapter Five
Love Is a Losing Game
    I wake up at seven to the tinny beep of my bunk neighbor’s
alarm. The screeching pierces the thin walls of the double-wide. And seeing as
Arietta is an aerialist and enjoys getting in her morning Sun Salutations, I
never get to sleep in. For some reason, the night’s dreams nag at me, but I
can’t remember anything about them beyond the extreme sensation of needing to
shower or wash my hands. My head is buzzing, slightly, but I brush it off as my
pressing need for caffeine.
    I roll over and reach out, and that’s when I notice Kingston
isn’t there.
    My eyes shoot open and look around the trailer, but it’s not
like this is a game of Where’s Waldo— there’s nowhere for him to hide . Kingston’s gone. I never felt him leave in the night. It’s not like him to just
up and go without at least giving me a kiss goodbye—he’s always been sappily
romantic like that. My heart beats an uneasy cadence. Kingston left, and it
somehow feels like my fault.
    I force myself out of bed and get dressed, then walk outside
just in time to see Arietta step from her bunk with a yoga mat under her arm
and a sleepy smile on her face. The girl’s got talent, but anyone who can wake
up at seven with a smile is labeled a freak in my book. And in this show,
that’s saying something. I give her a slight nod that she returns with a
broader smile. My focus has already shifted to the back lot.
    Our trailers are set up in parallel lines at this site, so
I’m facing the door to the opposite bunk. No one’s walking back and forth in
the alley between the double-wides except Arietta as she heads toward the
baseball diamond. The air smells faintly of bacon and cut grass, and I head
over to the one place I can expect to find Kingston—or anyone else—at this time
of day: the pie cart.
    The little kitchen trailer is set up a few yards away from
the bunk trailers. It looks like one of those food trucks you’d see selling
crappy Mexican food in a big city, but this trailer is painted with flowers and
is heavily decorated with dangling wind chimes and Tibetan flags. So yeah, more
like a food cart selling organic granola and kombucha. There’s a pavilion-style
tent set up beside it, with a few empty benches under the awning. One of the
tables is already laden with fruit and rolls and a couple silver canisters of
heaven—fresh coffee.
    But other than a few Shifters yawning beside the coffee
dispensers, the dining area is empty. So much for finding Kingston.
    I head over to the cart and grab a plastic mug from the
rack. I can’t help but notice that the Shifters—two that I don’t recognize, not
that that means much among people who can and do change their shape like
Harajuku girls change their hair colors—immediately go even quieter the moment
I’m near. Sara’s words wiggle through my tired and already stressed mind: They
see you as Mab’s henchmen.
    “Morning,” I say as I pour sugar into the mug.
    They grunt in response. I raise an eyebrow. The guy has a
shaved head and steel spikes jutting from his lower lip. The girl is about half
a head taller than baldie, with acid-pink hair and a splash of stars inked
across her right temple.
    “I’m Vivienne,” I say. I hold out a hand. They want to be
awkward? I will make this shit awkward. “I don’t think we’ve met