When Night Breaks

by Janella Angeles

  “Huh,” uttered Roth. His brow quirked in deliberation. Amusement. “An interesting proposal, indeed. Not quite what I pictured for his sad, quick ending … but perhaps you know his wounds better than any of us.” He nodded slowly. “He’s all yours. But if he for one moment disobeys—”

  “I’ll let you handle it,” she reassured. “By that point, I’ll have had my fun.”

  “Good girl.” He patted her elbow proudly in passing. Before excusing himself for the night, he turned a slow heel on Jack with the shake of his head. “The illusion and the magician.” He chuckled. “Even beasts get what they want. Though probably not in the way that you hoped.”

  * * *

  Red drenched every inch of Kallia’s room. Scarlet curtains draped over the walls in lush waves, highlighting the grand four-poster bed of sheer canopy with roses scattered among the gauze. Windows as tall as the towering vanity mirror rose at the sides, brushed gold with specks of crushed rubies all along the frame. In the center hung an elaborate chandelier in the shape of a pointed starburst suspended in the air. In another world, another time, Kallia would’ve sighed over such a room. A bold, lush lair. Fit for a queen.

  An Alastor.

  Kallia’s jaw clenched at the sound of Jack closing the door then. The tension in the air pressed hard, but she waited. Listened for the whisper of Roth’s footsteps outside, fading in the distance away from her room.

  The block of ice in her chest melted a fraction. Raking a hand through her hair, she released a long, deep breath. The first time she felt able to do so.

  “So…”

  The ice returned as she turned to Jack, dragging his feet over the carpet almost sheepishly. Hands shoved into his pockets. As if the magician who fought as viciously as a devil had been all in her imagination.

  Not a magician.

  “Kallia.” Uncertainty carved across his brow. “Fire—”

  Firecrown.

  The name was a lie, a slap in the face.

  Kallia snapped. One moment she glared at him from across the room, and the next, she shoved him right against the wall. Every curse she knew seared behind her teeth: “How?”

  She didn’t know what possessed her when she’d seen him take a beating from the devils—hell, his fucking head had been ripped off, and he still stood now. Any power she dared reach for next would be a raindrop against a fire. She knew this, and he knew this.

  Yet Jack stayed pressed against the wall, as if she held all the tools to end him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” The first time was a rarity, the next was a joke. She couldn’t tell if she was shaking from laughter, or rage. “For which part now? This list keeps growing, Jack,” she bit out. “That’s not even your real name, is it?”

  Jack’s nostrils flared. “It’s the name I was given, so of course it is,” he said. “Roth didn’t think too hard. It’s a common enough name.”

  Another mask to hide what was beneath. A secret.

  An illusion.

  With more power than any magician alive.

  Her hands curled into fists against his chest. It rose and fell. All hard, cold muscle. No heartbeat. She’d noticed that, once, when he’d haunted her in Glorian. Smoke trailed from his steps, his touch. He’d found her in mirrors and shadows, arrived at the ball with a face that was not his own. So many more signs had been there.

  She released him with an irritated breath. “I should’ve just let them keep fighting you.”

  “You still could.” Jack leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. Deceptively casual. “Not even I know what it takes to fully destroy me. But I’m sure Roth would love to solve the mystery with you.”

  “Maybe I will, then,” Kallia muttered. “At least the man gave me answers.”

  Jack stilled for a tense breath. “And you believed them? All of them?”

  “Of course not, you idiot.”

  Answers yielded clarity. Roth’s only shoved more weight on her shoulders, pushing her to one direction: the one he wanted her to follow. The one side to the story he told, where he had everything to gain.

  “You think I haven’t learned by now?” Kallia scoffed. “Because of experience, I’m not entirely brainless.”

  Despite the jab, the smallest smile curled on Jack’s face. She wanted to smack it right off, before it fell entirely on its own. “Careful.”

  She followed where his gaze drifted past her shoulder, finding nothing but the closed door. Then a hint of movement beneath the crease.

  A shadow walking, waiting.

  “I know a place.” Jack nodded to the window. “We can talk and we won’t—”

  “What makes you think I want to talk or go anywhere with you alone?” Her head tilted as she glared. “Because that always ends well.”

  He stopped midstep, his expression unreadable. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I never wanted to hurt—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you never meant to do. You did it all, anyway.”

  Jack never hurt in the obvious ways. That didn’t excuse the hurt he had inflicted, the scars left behind however unseen. She would make sure he saw them, lest he dare forget.

  Silence had never been so loud. Not between them. Jack, at least, had the grace to hold her gaze for every tense breath they shared. For all he hid from her, he never looked away to hide what he could. “I did.”

  For some reason, the admission hit harder than the apology.

  “Hurt me, if you wish. However you want,” he continued. “After all, I technically serve you now. So you can do with me what you like.”

  Bodyguard. It was the first role that had come to mind, and the irony was laughable. Jack was only ever capable of protecting himself. Any kindness, otherwise, was an accident.

  “Don’t patronize me.” Kallia swallowed hard. “We both know you can turn the tables to your favor when it suits you.”

  “Ah, but look around.” A harsh laugh fell from Jack as he strode to the nearest window and pulled back the curtain. “There’s no other side of the table for me to turn to.”

  The solemn realization gave her pause. To her, he was always Jack. The magician with everything, and more. The Master of the House whom many feared but hardly knew. Without any house to his name, no riches, no illusions at his beck and call—he had nothing left but the power at his fingertips.

  At the soft click of the window handle, the pulsing beats of the street party below streamed in. A slight breeze brushed at his hair as he peered out the window frame. “Ah, yes. We’re just beneath it.”

  It was the first time she’d seen the odd grin cross his face. “Beneath what?”

  He made a swift jump to the window ledge, holding onto the frame with one hand outstretched to her. “One of the rare places where we won’t be disturbed.”

  The seconds dragged as she stared at his hand, struck by how different it appeared without those black brass knuckles. Like someone else’s hand reaching for her. She knew better than to take it.

  Kallia jumped on her own, keeping close to the ledge. Back already turned, Jack led the way over the eave, his hand always hovering out behind should she wish to take it.

  She never did. Never needed to.

  Ridges marked the back of the roof like footholds, and she was grateful there was no rain to coat the surfaces slick. Still, though they were more than five stories up in the air, the climb was not as risky as one would imagine were they to look up at the Alastor Place from below.

  “Where are we going?” she hissed through a pant.

  Jack made the trip with ease, as though he could climb these steps blindfolded. “You had your place in your greenhouse. This, here, was mine.”

  Still a few paces behind, Kallia already braced herself. Knowing Jack’s tastes, especially on this other side where the impossible thrived, anything could’ve waited ahead. The city had already exhausted her eyes so much so far. There was hardly any wonder left in her for one more spectacle.

  Once at the top, Kallia copied
the way Jack had swung himself onto the flat surface. Her heart pattered as she rose slowly to her feet and blinked hard all around her.

  There was nothing.

  Just a small flat expanse of roof covered by an old rug, frayed and flattened smooth from use. An ordinary spot for stargazing, only there were no stars to this night. No moon, no clouds. Nothing in the dark above their heads.

  “No one really cares to enjoy the rooftops here.” Jack ambled over to the center of the rug, taking it all in with a pleased breath. “They’re a reminder of the truth.”

  “The truth?”

  “That no matter how much shine there is, this world is still just a shade of yours.” He gestured out to the building tops of this Glorian, all sparkling illumination to rival the sky. “It’s all trickery down here. Sugar-coated truth. Most would rather get lost in lies than face reality, however much they enjoy it from afar.” He rocked back on his heels. “That’s probably why I enjoyed this so much. It’s quiet. Honest.”

  Fascinated, Kallia kept to the outskirts of the rug as he lowered himself into a seated position, long legs stretched out before him. She’d never seen him sit on any ground, let alone unbutton his jacket then toss it to the side.

  He didn’t gesture for her to join; the invitation was clear should she wish to take it.

  Her presence could’ve been entirely forgotten from the way he looked out across the city the way one would at a sunrise. Just like how she always searched over the Dire Woods for Glorian.

  “For some reason, I often found myself coming here,” he said quietly, gaze straight ahead. “Even I knew it was a good place to hide.”

  From what? Someone as powerful as Jack had no reason to hide. Nothing to fear.

  “Never thought you’d be here as well, one day.” He paused for a beat that went on too long. “You were never supposed to come here.”

  Her scowl iced at his statement. “Where was I supposed to be, then?” she snapped. “At Hellfire House? Standing in one place for the rest of my days?”

  His side profile turned. Just the corner of his eye felt as intense as his full stare. “Standing still isn’t so bad.”

  “If it’s a choice.”

  For someone who called her firecrown, how he ever believed she’d be satisfied with such a life astounded her. The bird’s name was one she’d worn proudly before, a perfect fit for a rare creature of flight. But rather than let her go, Jack had kept her in Hellfire House. In the palm of his hand.

  Kallia pressed her lips tight. “A cage can be pretty and filled with everything one could ever want. But in the end, it’s still a cage,” she said. “The illusion of power, of a life.”

  This very rooftop was proof that Jack understood the difference. Even more than the magicians lost to this city around them.

  “I’d hoped it could be enough,” Jack mused, deep in thought. “But perhaps cages are all I’m used to now, I don’t see bars anymore. Only … safety.”

  “Safety from what?”

  “Standing still here.” He thrust both hands out to the world at their feet. Another grand cage.

  For Kallia, at least. “You could leave at any time, couldn’t you?” Envy speared deep into her bones as she spoke. “You did before, probably still can again.”

  His silence was telling, louder than all the sounds of revelry reaching them. He’d thought about this. Probably since they started walking outside of these gates.

  And still, he was here: sitting on the roof beside her under a starless sky.

  “Want to know why Roth created me in the first place?” he asked, staring ahead for a long beat. “I was made to find you.”

  Kallia’s heart pounded, knocking against her chest. “I don’t understand how that’s even possible.”

  “It’s not. Or it shouldn’t be,” he said all too simply. “Roth found out the hard way that no magicians could leave unless it’s through Zarose Gate…” No further explanation was needed, from the way both of them shuddered. “And illusions were not an option, either. They can exist on both sides because they’re really nothing but figments of magic and memory. But ultimately, they are temporary. Weak.”

  Kallia frowned. However cruel, the truth of it remained. It was why boorish magicians like the one at the Diamond Rings’ show threw daggers into the act, fearing no consequence. Or why the illusions of Hellfire House changed so frequently around her. From Sanja to Mistress Verónn, and all the names and faces she couldn’t recall—a new part was always cast to make up for the absence.

  And Mari.

  A twinge went through Kallia. She recalled flashes of fear in the girl’s eyes as they neared the edge of the Dire Woods, and then nothing. No one.

  “And Sire?” asked Kallia. “How could he be an illusion? He brought me up himself, raised me for years.”

  “Did he, or was he just simply there?” Jack raised a brow, his suspicions confirmed when she averted his stare. “The more you know an illusion is indicative of how much it took to conjure them. For magicians, creating a prop is easy. Sculpting a puppet to play a role—takes slightly more finesse. But to forge one that can dance and sing and walk without its strings … that takes much more power. More effort.”

  Kallia paced slowly down the edge of the carpet. If she stood still any longer, she might entertain the idea of sitting down next to him. “And that’s you?”

  “Roth didn’t want any more puppets.” A humorless chuckle. “He needed a puppeteer.”

  The moment the sadness of his tone registered, she stopped at her next step. A warning, waiting in the chill of the air.

  Jack always lied, and could be lying again. The only difference was, she knew the worst of it. Should she fall down that same path again, there was no one to blame but herself.

  Celebration echoed from the streets. A burst of piercing screams and bells ringing hard, competing with the nothingness above. The quiet of the night.

  Head tipped backward, Jack took it all in. “It’s not a true sky, you know.”

  Kallia’s eyes narrowed. If nothing about the other side was true, why would the sky be any different? “Without stars, I figured.”

  “It’s not as simple as a night without stars.” He snorted. “Those are the devils up there.”

  “What?” Her pulse started. Panic gripped. “Why the hell are we out here, then?”

  “Don’t worry, they’re so far up because they’re too many. Like a swarm of bees.”

  Repulsed by the image, she choked back a cough. “Don’t worry? If devils can fill an entire sky, then they could—” The possibilities were endless. When Roth mentioned these forces were watching, she never pictured this. A canvas of eyes, draped overhead.

  While people partied riotously below without a care.

  The music raged on, accompanied by hoots and whistles so obnoxious, Kallia pressed at her temple. “Do they even realize?”

  “Why do you think they’re dancing like it’s the end of the world?” His shoulder raised in a half-shrug. “The end of this one could come at any time … but any type of revelry pleases the devils, gives them a taste of that magic they so crave. And if the devils are pleased, Roth is pleased.”

  “So the parties never stop,” she trailed off with a bleak nod. It had only been her first night in the city, and already, she saw it for the dreams it offered. Endless, spectacular dreams no one wished to wake up from, like a song with no end.

  “The parties, the entertainment, whatever power is used to fire up these streets…” Jack cast a downward nod. “Magic begets magic. And devils love the taste of it too much to pick away at a field that happily grows it. Even if they don’t realize it.”

  Roth failed to mention that. Many things, in fact. It didn’t fit his picture of paradise, the pieces that truly allowed him to thrive. The devils, as well.

  “Is that how they made you?”

  The set of Jack’s shoulders straightened. His posture, too perfect. Tense. “Roth always felt there might be a way to blend illusi
on and magician,” he said. “After all the deals he struck with devils, asking them to give up any magic, for a feat that might not even work, was a risk. Even for him.”

  Roth’s brown eyes flashed every time Kallia blinked. They blazed with challenge, thrived on chance. No one earned a name like the Dealer without eyes like that.

  “The devils agreed to one—a perfect, obedient servant,” he drawled. “Though Roth would ask for an army if he could.”

  Relief coursed through her. No other illusions like him lurked on either side of the gate. A power like that existing for many was a war waiting to happen.

  But to be the only one—the only one of anything—

  Kallia chased the feeling away by clearing her throat. “If they brought you here, I’m surprised they didn’t try their hand at more.”

  “One was enough.” The somber line of Jack’s smile, hard as glass, needled at her.

  “Roth never went a day without reminding me of the sacrifice the devils made, wasting so much magic on me. If I didn’t come out perfect, I would’ve been in trouble.”

  At the harshness of his laugh, the way it went on for a little too long, her brow creased. “That wouldn’t have been your fault.”

  “No one likes to be wrong. But when they are, there’s always someone else to blame.” He loosened the small buttons at his neck. “Thankfully, I emerged exactly as I am. I trained, I learned. I punished when I was asked, answered when questioned, but most importantly, I obeyed at all times.”

  “Even if you didn’t want to?” The knot at Kallia’s throat tightened. It was no secret that Roth was the kind of man who sent others to get their hands dirty for him. A cleaner conscience that way, at the expense of others. “You had all the power to stop it, didn’t you?”

  “Didn’t mean I could use it.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “What I wanted didn’t matter. I think they all figured I’d be empty as a shell. An illusion.”

  Everything he’d said called to everything she’d felt.