When Night Breaks

by Janella Angeles

  Tell her, Eva’s voice taunted in his ear. Tell her everything.

  Daron turned his back to the window. The woods would not sway him, no matter how it tried. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You already said that.” With a sigh, Aunt Cata placed her gloved hand on his carefully. The gesture, once again, gave him pause. “It’s past, now. Driving it to the ground will not change it. Better to forget and move forward.”

  Daron didn’t want to forget. He couldn’t. Every time he saw her worry lines and shadows beneath them, he’d remember. Every hurt in every unanswered letter.

  “No more silence between us.” She capped the solemn order with a gentle pat. “We start over.”

  He nodded without argument. The weight of all that was unsaid dragged down everything inside him. The unspoken wrath, days of worrying, heaps of disappointment and frustration masked behind her work. She could curse him sideways right now and he wouldn’t stop her.

  But Aunt Cata never was one to indulge in such reactions. She expressed her emotions by putting them aside, and moving on.

  Tell her. Eva’s voice still teased as their carriage rolled through the Glorian gates.

  About Kallia and the show, about his magic and the mirrors. About how she’d vanish, same as Eva. Lottie had been right to assume the Patrons would take notice of the papers. He just couldn’t be too sure what she believed.

  “Aunt Cata,” Daron began as the carriage slowed to a stop. “What you saw in the papers—”

  “—is among the many reasons why we’re here.” Tightening her gloves across her fingers, she smoothly maneuvered her way out of the cramped carriage. “We’ll chat more later, but there’s business to take care of. Come along.”

  She disembarked without another word, leaving Daron nearly speechless. He’d never been asked to tag along on Patron business, almost thought he’d heard her wrong until she popped her scowling face back into view. “Just because I forgive you doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten your tendency to run at the first chance.”

  Her sharp, expectant tone triggered some muscle memory that had him out of his seat and on the street in a blink.

  Frantic, his eyes darted all about them. A line of other small white carriages continued long after theirs against the curb.

  Just like the sight of white coats and gloves, patrolling everywhere he turned.

  Daron’s pulse spiked. “What’s going on?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” Aunt Cata said brusquely before a Patron flanked her side with a leather-bound clipboard. While continuing down the street, they conversed in hushed tones, far too soft for Daron to catch a word as he followed.

  The Glorian surrounding him now was different from the one he’d left before his ride. Amidst the curious chatter, there was a quietness about the streets, as quiet as the time he’d first arrived in the city covered in ice.

  People paused near the foreign row of Patron carriages conquering the length of the curb. Faces peered in windows, between the cracks of closed curtains, observing the new arrivals.

  Lottie had been right. Nothing killed an old headline better than a new one. People forgot just as swiftly as they condemned.

  Without asking, Daron already knew where they were heading. After any event, Aunt Cata always prioritized interviewing those directly affected, collecting firsthand accounts herself. Her Patrons assessed the situation from the ground, but she went straight to the heart.

  Chaos echoed throughout the hospital halls from the moment they entered. The sharp screech of metal and shouts only grew louder as they moved through the patients’ quarters—rows of seemingly peaceful beds to the one closed off by a thrashing sheer curtain at the end.

  “Paper,” a voice croaked. “No, get off me—I need paper!”

  “Father, please—we must get you cleaned up…”

  Daron followed his aunt toward the violent clang. A tin pitcher of water was knocked over. A hiss of a curse following after.

  To the sides, attendants overseeing patients straightened instantly at Aunt Cata’s emergence. Even the visitors sitting by bedsides kept watch.

  At the flash of ruby-red hair, Daron stiffened, and accidentally met Canary’s gaze for a tense moment. She and a few other Conquerors sat beside Juno, the tattooed performer who still had not risen. Much like the other magicians lying in the pair of beds across from hers, it was a troubling sight. Not much had changed over the past few weeks. No difference, no progress.

  The fire-eater broke eye contact almost immediately, always doing her best to avoid him. He’d gotten used to such cold shoulders in Glorian. For someone who played with fire, hers was by far the iciest.

  It hardly mattered to Daron now with the scene ahead. Tools and water puddles and pieces of paper were scattered on the floor like a trail. A man thrashed under hands trying to settle him, his restless white-gray hair smeared with bits of black tufting out. His eyes were wild, somehow bloodshot and drowsy and alert at once before closing in pure exhaustion.

  Mayor Eilin.

  The change in him was startling. He’d known the mayor best in a top hat and pressed suit with the collar buttoned high to the neck, disapproval ruling his manner. The man who’d fought him and Kallia during the competition every step of the way.

  Hardly any of that existed in the patient before him.

  Aunt Cata assessed the situation with a steely air, taking in the resting mayor as though he might rise in attack at any moment. She’d subdued wilder perpetrators before with just the touch of her hand, a last resort to prevent further harm.

  As the group approached, Janette sprang away from her father, looking just as harried. “Excuse me, but this is a private—”

  “I’m Head Patron Cataline Edgard,” said Aunt Cata, smoothing the palms of her white gloves on full display. “My team and I have only just arrived. You summoned us.”

  “Oh—” Janette’s hard expression cracked under a break of tears. “Oh thank Zarose you’re here.” That softness sharpened right back up as she spotted Daron among the group. “No one requested your presence.”

  The words stung in his chest.

  He was saved the grace of having to respond when Aunt Cata cleared her throat. “I insisted he stay by me today. I hope you understand.” The way she shifted position subtly shielded him. “He won’t interfere.”

  “Fine.” Nostrils flared, Janette sharpened her focus back toward the bed. “Thank you for coming so quickly. He only just woke this morning, has been out for a little over a week.”

  “I understand that he was attacked?”

  “Knocked out cold.” The girl’s jaw clenched. “It’s all over the papers by now, isn’t it?”

  “There’s a lot that’s in the papers right now. It’s hard to find the truth of it.”

  “You want the real story, then?” Janette scoffed, resting her hands on her hips. “He was attacked by some mad magician who brought down the last night of our show. I worried he might never wake up.”

  “Wait.” Blinking, Aunt Cata held up a hand. “Tell me more about this … mad magician?”

  Daron had some choice words for him. The magician hadn’t been in their presence for long, but he’d brought disaster as soon as he’d descended upon the ballroom like some nightmare. With Daron’s face, no less. So many theatrical accounts of the night circulated throughout Soltair. Rarely did they speak of the nameless magician who’d brought down Spectaculore.

  Jack.

  Daron would never forget the way Kallia had whispered it, like it was less a name and more a warning.

  “… he and Kallia knew each other somehow. Zarose knows why he showed up—probably to help her win that stupid competition.” Janette’s tongue clicked hard against her teeth. “In any case, he hit my father like some cheat brawler and would’ve destroyed a lot more given the chance, so I expect there to be consequences.”

  “Consequences come once the perpetrator is caught.” Aunt Cata nodded to the Patron beside her taking note
s. “Since we have no name, would you describe what he looked like, Miss Eilin?”

  “Tall, light-brown skin, dressed fine as a gentleman, dark eyes. Almost too handsome, if you ask me, though I guess that’s typical with magicians of his kind.” She chewed on the inside of her lip. “And then … he wore these odd rings.”

  “Rings?”

  “Yes, but they covered something. Some marks … it all happened so fast, I didn’t get a look.” Janette’s frown deepened. “I swear, my father had said something about the…”

  Aunt Cata tilted her head. “Yes?”

  The girl blinked. “Nothing. Just old families, you probably wouldn’t—”

  “Janette, don’t.”

  A raspy voice sounded, before a rustling of blankets and the squeak of metal springs as Mayor Eilin roused himself back up. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Or what they’ll do to you. To us all.”

  Terror clung to his voice, so much that even as it made no sense, it chilled Daron.

  “Who?” Janette went to Mayor Eilin’s side, her hand going by his. “It’s all right, Father. You’re safe now.”

  When the man only shook his head harder, Aunt Cata straightened back her shoulders. “Mayor Eilin, please.” Her voice reached out gently. “My team and I were summoned. I’m only here to help—”

  “I don’t believe you.” Eilin glared out the window overlooking a collection of gabled roofs in sight. “I don’t believe any of this. Not anymore.” When he looked down at his palm, the dark ink smudges against the side, he perked up. “Where’s the paper I asked for?”

  Janette sighed. “We’ll give you more, after you finish speaking with the Head Patron.”

  “But I need to get it down now, before it all goes…” The mayor’s gaze wandered to the floor where some scribbled papers had fallen hastily, before there was a pause. “Ah, Demarco. Is that you?”

  Daron’s throat went dry, more from the uncharacteristic sunniness than the recoginition.

  “Excellent timing.” The mayor continued humming to himself. “Saves me the trouble.”

  Curious, Aunt Cata immediately stepped aside to give him full view of Daron. Not that Janette even cared, by this point. “What business do you have with him?”

  The mayor tipped his head back with a light chuckle. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Wouldn’t we all?” With a small, tired smile, he patted his daughter’s hand. “You don’t remember, but you will. It’s not our faults we’ve forgotten.”

  “That ball was utter madness, Father.” Janette pulled the blanket back over his feet. “I can’t imagine how anyone—”

  “No, I’m not talking about that night.” The mayor’s brow furrowed. “This goes far beyond that night. Years before it.”

  Silence pulled at the air between them, every wordless second its own tense heartbeat.

  “Father…” She regarded him unsurely, delicately. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I’m seeing clearer than I have in a long time. Like a weight that was pressing down on me from somewhere, now gone. No clouds, no blocks. I remember—” He sighed harshly, examining the planes of his fingers. “That young magician in the dark suit, with triangles on his knuckles, I know him. We all do.”

  Daron hadn’t even realized he’d pressed forward until Aunt Cata urged him back with her shoulder. Were it anyone else, he would’ve knocked them over without hesitation.

  I know him.

  Which meant the man knew more, knew where Kallia could be.

  A lead.

  Finally.

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to talk another time, Head Patron.” Janette lifted her shoulder with an apology. “I think what my father probably needs most right now is some rest.”

  Mayor Eilin shoved the sheet blanket off him. “No, I don’t need rest. I need to get it all out before it goes away.” He glanced frantically at Daron, then to Aunt Cata. “Head Patron Edgard, I’ve had all sorts of questions in the back of my head that surely you’d know the answers to. Patrons, and all.”

  Cata’s “We know much, Mayor Eilin, but not everything.”

  “Isn’t that the irony of this city, too? We’re even more in the dark. Shoved in it, if you ask me.” He raised a brow at her, turning it on all of them. “Because why is this city no more than just a wild rumor and speculation? Unremembered, unknown to so many. Lost, when there’s not even much found about it in the first place.”

  A prickle of awareness ran through Daron. He’d wondered all of this before. Not too long ago. The riddle of Glorian wasn’t just for those outside the city looking in, but for those within the walls, too. Rumors spread fast, but this silence had endured. It bred stories and theories that became like a mask. And somehow, all of Soltair had just accepted it as that.

  How can a city disappear when it stood around them?

  “No guesses as to why?” the mayor posed, watching them carefully. “Not even you, Head Patron?”

  In an interview, stilted silence from Aunt Cata was rare. She always had a ready answer, or at the very least, a response to keep the victim at ease. Somehow in all of this, Mayor Eilin had turned the tables on them all.

  Janette finally broke the silence with a nervous, shaky laugh. “That’s quite enough.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “We can reschedule this so I can ring the nurse—”

  “Janette, you’ve known for a long time that something has not been right. We all have.” Mayor Eilin picked up his daughter’s hand again, placing it against his head. “Someone has stolen from us, right here. Again and again.”

  She pulled back from his hold. “Father, please.”

  “You know I’m right. You don’t remember yet, but you will.”

  That line again hung over them all, more ominous than ever. Something warred behind Janette’s eyes, slowly watering to the edges as she withdrew from the bed. “I-I need to step out for a moment, but please keep him here.” Without looking at anyone, she gestured for a nurse, her face crumpling. “However well he says he feels, he clearly needs some rest now.”

  The sight of Janette’s shaking shoulders on her way out left a hollow feeling inside Daron. He didn’t know who he felt more for, the girl or her father who solemnly looked at the spot where she’d just been holding his hand.

  Daron recognized the sort of loss that shadowed over the mayor’s face. If his own daughter didn’t believe him, no one would. He knew that feeling well.

  “The truth can be so large, not everyone is ready to hear it.” The mayor let out a low sigh. “Wouldn’t you agree, Head Patron?”

  Aunt Cata let out a tense hum of a sound, neither in agreement nor disagreement. Furtively, she examined the other Patrons’ notes before they exchanged glances and hushed whispers with one another.

  Daron’s pulse quickened at the slightest tug from his sleeve.

  “Be careful with whom you trust, Demarco,” the mayor whispered in a low, gravelly voice. “You’ve been looking for answers ever since you arrived. Far more than that, too.”

  Daron gave a jerky nod.

  The mayor bore a smile of relief. “They wanted me to pass along some advice,” he said. “It’s hard to find a single thing when the game board’s been wiped clean, even harder when you’re on the wrong game board altogether.”

  “Who’s they—” Daron’s pulse skipped as his fist clenched tightly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Look for the gate, and you’ll finally find her.”

  Daron’s heart went still.

  Kallia.

  He pressed closer to the bed. “What did you say?”

  “Daron?”

  His aunt’s voice fell to the side as he shook her hand off him. “What gate?”

  “You know it.” Mayor Eilin spoke quickly, holding up the black-stained sides of his hands. “I tried drawing you the path, to find the way in to get below the surface. It’s closer than you think—wait—” His eyes began drifting, his speech slowing. Slurring. “Lose yourself … where those dare not …
get lost…”

  No, no, no. In a burst of panic, Daron shot forward, close to shaking the man back awake by the shoulders.

  Not until he noticed his aunt’s hand on Mayor Eilin’s. Her cold stare intent, focused. “That’s enough for now. You should rest.”

  “One magician can enter … only one can…”

  “What are you doing?” Daron seethed, ready to tear her hand away before someone grabbed him back by the elbows.

  Daron struggled hard, slamming his shoes to the ground. “Eilin!” he shouted. Please. Just a moment more. A question. “Is she safe?”

  He had to know.

  He didn’t want to wonder anymore, to imagine the worst. Whatever the answer, he had to know that.

  His chest nearly caved when the mayor finally faded, sleep thickening his voice. “Don’t … let them … take…”

  4

  As Kallia and Jack walked, the memories kept following her in the dark.

  Like beasts tracking prey in her periphery, the illusions rose from the shadows, begging for her attention. Tugging at every familiar sensation.

  Dark-rose carpets sprouted beneath her feet while the delicate music of clinking utensils and teacups of the Prima Cafe swirled around her. Soft, cool satins and velvet brushed up against her like when she’d browse through Ira’s dress shop. Bursts of laughter and too-warm air found her in a heady blend of sweat, perfumes, and liquor from the Conquering Circus tents.

  “It’s not real.”

  Jack reminded her every time she stood still for too long or slowed even a little. Because despite everything, for a torturous second, she believed in them. Even as she knew better.

  Just like the others they came across.

  The first magician who had attacked earlier was far from the last. There were more. A faraway voice, jaunty whistling, faint steps that were neither hers nor Jack’s. Occasionally she’d catch their forms staggering in the distance. Ghosts drifting past.

  Kallia knew better than to run to them now. There was no reaching someone lost in their own world, and the knot in her stomach sank like a stone each time they crossed paths with one.