“Demarco!” Aaros shook him roughly. “Don’t just stand there, do something—”
“He can’t.”
Lottie stepped right through an empty frame, looking every bit as disheveled as the other guests. Her eyes were set on Daron, steely with quiet fury. Remembrance. “Isn’t that right?”
She’d known.
The truth was not as painful to his ears as he’d thought. Distantly he heard a wave of protests fly to his rescue—citing his career, his power, knocking out mirrors moments before from luminous blasts out of his hands.
His eyes fell to his palms, now absent of light, still warm from the power that came at him like a stranger. The magic, gone.
Kallia, gone.
Where are you?
Numbed to the pain, the shouting all around him, his gaze drew to the ground, so heavy he could barely lift it anymore. But his heart thumped a beat back to life, for in the scattered glass and rose petals, a note had been left among them.
One of Soul
EPILOGUE
The stage was empty, abandoned.
The perfect place for a meeting, the powerless magician reasoned, as he sat along the cold, wooden edge, overlooking the entire theater. Darkened as the day he first walked in. Empty seats and aisles, lights dead as the grief that clouded the whole city.
Along with a small spark of intrigue. A new sort of curiosity unfolded over the city, bringing many more visitors. All taken in by the tale of unfortunate accidents and injuries. In a way, the theatrical was still running. People came for front-row seats, and stayed for the next act. The next tragedy. And the mystery of the contestant who’d gone missing without a trace.
Still missing.
Sometimes he thought he could hear her in the silence, see her in reflections. Just within reach, until he blinked and found nothing there.
Only an illusion. A trick.
The powerless magician couldn’t tell them apart anymore, only knew that somehow, whatever it took, he had to find her.
The doors opened.
The others had arrived. An assistant who had the quick look of the streets about him, and a scowling circus entertainer whose ruby-red hair dominated the bleak air of the building.
“Why did you call us here, judge?” the assistant sighed.
“Seriously,” the entertainer snarled, stomping closer. Within punching distance. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go back to my tent and return with our lion. She hasn’t devoured a liar in a while.”
A month ago, he would’ve flinched. He would’ve skipped town to avoid any accusation. The truth. He’d been running from it for so long, he didn’t know what was true anymore. Only the lies spun over time into a far worse creature he could no longer live with.
“I know I have a lot to explain and even more to apologize for,” he confessed, wringing his hands to keep them from shaking. “I will do that. I will tell you everything.”
“And?” The assistant attempted to hide his disinterest. Failing. “What’s the catch?”
The entertainer’s jaw worked. “And why do you think we’d want to hear what you have to say?”
“Because the poor boy needs your help.”
The sharp-tongued journalist, the last to round them out, shut the doors behind her. Waltzing in, she took her pen down from her bound hair and wielded it like a blade, brandishing her notepad. “Please don’t say you’ve started without me,” she said. “How rude.”
The magician waited a moment, expecting the assistant and the entertainer to leave at her arrival. They didn’t have to help, they didn’t owe him anything. They could’ve left town just as easily, the moment the show was over.
Something rooted them all in place, regardless.
The journalist took it upon herself to occupy the first red velvet seat in the front row. She unfolded her spectacles, crossed her legs to prop her notepad by her knee. “No detail is too small, no theory too ridiculous—”
“This is ridiculous,” the entertainer spat. “We don’t need a headline, we need help.”
“You can’t solve anything unless you have all the details first. But if you have any other bright ideas, please. I’m all ears,” the journalist fired back, just as vicious. Neither the girl nor the assistant supplied anything more, quietly taking their seats without further complaint.
The magician had overseen theaters packed with hundreds, crowds of thousands, and yet nothing intimidated him more than this audience of three. Most of whom couldn’t stand the sight of him, all things considered.
“Now, before we get started, first things first.” The journalist rose from her seat, pulling a curious item from her pocket. All they could see were the smooth white edges peeking out from her hand before she placed it on the empty stage.
A mask.
“Does the name Hellfire House mean anything to you?”
The assistant nodded. The entertainer raised her brow. And the magician wordlessly reached for the mask, tracing his fingers over the white, pearlescent exterior before turning it over.
The other side was lined not in pearl, but in mirrored glass. Flashes of his face caught in the dips and bends of the mask’s shape. Bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair, a hollowed gaze that cleared the instant he met it.
He would not turn away. Not anymore.
As the others talked over him, the magician stared at his fragmented reflection without fearing it for once.
Without knowing that, on the other side of the mirror, another magician stared back.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
One fact about me is that I love reading the acknowledgments of a book first. I love seeing how many people stood behind one storyteller, how many names went into the creation of this book aside from the one along the spine. To see such gratitude and happiness for reaching this stage from the help of many is why I always turn to the acknowledgments.
It’s an honor to now be writing my own.
To my brilliant agent, Thao Le, who is truly the best in the business. We’ve seen as many publishing lows as highs together ever since you plucked me out of the slush pile, and even when I doubted everything, not once did you give up on me. This is not our first book together even though it’s the first we’ve published, and I’m happy it won’t be the last, either. You’ve made me a better writer in more ways than I can count. I always feel so lucky to have you in my corner, along with the rest of the fabulous SDLA team who all together form the fantastic literary agency I’m proud to be represented by.
To my spectacular editor, Vicki Lame, who gave this author and book their wings and believed in us so much, even when the story felt like nothing more than a glimmer of a song. You heard what it could be, and took a chance on me. I’ll always be grateful you did, as well as grateful for your enthusiasm and incredible editorial insights that helped strengthen the book so beautifully. Kallia, Demarco, Jack, and I would be lost without you, the one who got us all through the door and kept us sane during this wild journey.
Endless thanks to my remarkable publishing team at Wednesday Books—including Jennie Conway, DJ DeSmyter, Jessica Preeg, Meghan Harrington, Kerri Resnick, Anna Gorovoy, NaNá V. Stoelzle, Elizabeth R. Curione, Micaela Alcaino, Alexis Neuville, Natalie Tsay, Kim Ludlam, Tom Thompson, Michael Criscitelli, Dylan Helstein, Lance Ehlers, Rhys Davies, and all the people who’ve worked on this book in any way. I’m lucky to be working with you. You have infused so much life into this book and ushered it out in the world with a spotlight. It’s wild to think that just years ago, Kallia was still dancing alone in my head; thanks to your excitement and hard work, she now has an audience and a much bigger, grander stage to tell her story.
To my incredible writing cult, my support group of amazingly talented writers, it would be cheesy to call you my found family but it’s the truth. We found each other on the internet, which, as we all know, is always the best place to make friends. Thank you, Akshaya Raman and Maddy Colis, my bat signal pals from the beginning, even when my writing was just sim
ile soup—look at us now. To Katy Rose Pool (publishing twin!!), Ashley Burdin, Alexis Castellanos, Kat Cho, Mara Fitzgerald (salt and Shrek buddy!), Amanda Foody, Christine Lynn Herman, Tara Sim, Claribel Ortega, Melody Simpson, Ella Dyson, and Meg Kohlmann (my first writing friend/CP EVER). To Axie Oh, beloved James to my Jessie, there is no one I’d rather dominate the writing world with than you. To Amanda Haas, for your invaluable pep talks and just for being the light that you are. And to Erin Bay, my one and only CO-G and fellow Phan, you’ve been excited about this book as soon as I threw the idea out into the world. Thank you, for always cheering this book and me on, and for knowing without hesitation it was something special. Your friendship and encouragement truly helped make this story take flight. You’re emoji-sploding right now, aren’t you?
To Sara Raasch, Susan Dennard, Roshani Chokshi, Patrice Caldwell, and Julie Dao—thank you for being such guiding lights over the years to this baby writer, you’re all absolute legends. To Emily Duncan and Claire Legrand, thank you so much for the kind words and kindness over the years. Big thanks to writer pals Andrea Tang, Ashley Schumacher, Hannah Reynolds, and Ellie Moreton. Thank you to Sami Thomason, Joy Preble, Allison Senecal, Kalie Young, Kiersten Frost, Alexa (@alexalovesbooks), and Brittney (@reverieandink), for bolstering this book from the very beginning. And in general, to all book bloggers, booksellers, influencers, librarians, and those in the book community who have supported my book and me—thank you, for everything, especially for the important work you do that certainly kept this reader reading ever since she was younger. To the fanfiction community, for helping me get my start in writing and changing my life forever. And a shout-out to my CWP family, especially the Contracts and Rights crew, for all the support as I straddle both sides of the industry table.
And now, the moment they’ve all been waiting for: my family.
Just kidding. This is the section I’ve been looking forward to most, because none of what I do as a storyteller would be possible without my pillars of a family. You might not have always known I was a writer (remember when I used to be quiet and shared nothing with you guys?), but once you did, you believed in me fiercely.
To Papa, thank you, for all of our talks and drives, and for always encouraging me in my writing—even when it seemed like I was going nowhere, and even if it is just to get an island out of it. To Mama, thank you, for never once doubting that I could achieve this dream, and for indulging me on my amoeba days. I love you muy muy. Thank you both, for being there and for giving me the time, the space, and the love to create without judgment. You two are my favorite love story—and I like to think that’s how the storytelling bug bit me in the first place.
To Lia, for guiding me toward books and writing. It all started with me stealing your Greek mythology picture book (which I still have). To Michael, once, you said you would invest in my first gloriously bad book which is not really how it works, but I’ve appreciated your support ever since. To Luke (“Master Skywalker”), Little Michael, and Sophia, you can’t read this right now (Luke, never), but I love you monsters. To Chino, for your unwavering support and kindness, and for always asking how I’m doing. To Joseph, thank you, for knowing just what to say when I need to hear it, especially on my down days. And to Nina, both Mr. Tchaikovsky and daydreamer, you always knew this was going to happen, even when I didn’t—thank you, for being there whenever I need you, and for believing in me as much as I believe in you. The heart of every friendship I write about always leads back to you.
There’s no better family than Team Angeles (reporting for duty), but I also have to shout-out the Gochans, the Felixes, the Salases, and the Stamoulis—cousins, aunts, uncles, in-laws alike. Also Loli, with whom I’m proud to share a love of reading and stories. To Lolopops, who definitely knew I was writing and not doing homework; and especially to Lola, who listened to the fragments of my first book and inspired me to do everything differently. As a matter of fact, you all inspire me in so many ways. Family is everything to me, and I love you all so, so much.
And lastly, thank you, dear reader. For picking up this book, for wanting to read it, for reading all of these acknowledgments. I’ve wanted this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, and I’m glad I get to be able to share this dream with you. If you’ve finished the story and ended up here, thank you so much for reading. If you’re the same kind of reader as me who looked at these acknowledgments first, you’re my kind of person. And I hope you enjoy the show.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JANELLA ANGELES is a Filipino-American author who got her start in writing through consuming glorious amounts of fanfiction at a young age—which eventually led to penning some of her own, and later on, creating original stories from her imagination. A lifelong lover of books, she’s lucky enough to be working in the business of publishing them on top of writing them. She currently resides in Massachusetts, where she’s most likely to be found listening to musicals on repeat and daydreaming too much for her own good. Where Dreams Descend is her first book. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Dramatis Personae
Map
Epigraph
Act I. Enter the magician: A princess with claws who wishes for wings
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Act II. Enter the Devils: The beasts that hunt, and the ghosts who haunt
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Act III. Enter the Lovers: Those roses entwined among twisted thorns
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Act IV. Enter the Shadows: The tricks of light, the truth from lies
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by Wednesday Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
WHERE DREAMS DESCEND. Copyright © 2020 by Janella Angeles. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.wednesdaybooks.com
Cover design by Kerri Resnick
Cover illustration by Michaela Alcaino
Map and interior illustrations by Rhys Davies
Names: Angeles, Janella, author.
Title: Where dreams descend / Janella Angeles.
Description: First edition.|New York: Wednesday Books, 2020.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019059154|ISBN 9781250204356 (hardcover)|ISBN 9781250204363 (ebook)
Subjects: CYAC: Magic—Fiction.|Contests—Fiction.|Missing persons—Fiction.|Ability—Fiction.|Secrets—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.A566 Wh 2020|DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019059154
eISBN 9781250204363
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: 2020
Where Dreams Descend Page 41