A Criminal Magic

by Lee Kelly

  “The rest of our proposed agreement would go immediately into action. We reorganize the district. Everything west of Fourteenth Street is ours. You take the east. A smooth criminal empire, as I believe my father once called it,” Gunn says tightly. “Before lesser men took a hammer to his vision.”

  A true deal between the Shaws and their enemies. A deal across all operations, no less—hell, a partnership. Agent Frain is going to flip.

  Colletto turns the bottle over once more in his hand. “Thursday,” he finally answers. “I’ll give you ten thousand for fifty gallons. You throw in the sweeteners we talked about, and we’ve got a deal.”

  Gunn breaks into an uncharacteristically wide smile, a smile that almost makes him look boyish—reminds me of just how young this mongrel is, and just how high he’s managed to claw. He gestures for our troupe to descend the stage. “I think this calls for a toast.”

  On cue, stagehands file into the performance space with large silver trays loaded with shot glasses, ascend the stairs, and grab the remaining six bottles of shine from the stage. And with that, the vibe of the room shifts. Shine is being poured. The deal is going forward. Foes have turned into allies, and an almost festive air settles over the crowd. I need to pass this on to Frain, all of it—

  “But first, how about a round of applause for our performers?” Gunn says.

  Colletto claps a full, long applause, and his team of thugs joins in. We bow slightly, as Joan, the star, takes a full curtsy in front of their benches. Does she realize that all eyes are on her now? Does she understand that these gangsters see her as a commodity, a valuable asset that could be sold, or stolen?

  Another reason why I need to shut this operation down.

  Another reason why this whole magic racket is wrong—because of sorcerers like her, and once upon a time sorcerers like me: sorcerers who get used, turned around, and forced right into the line of fire.

  As the crowd moves toward the VIP lounge, Joan edges beside me and whispers, “Go up the fire escape to my room when this is done. Wait for me. Gunn’s giving everyone a cele­bratory shot of shine—they’ll be in the lounge for at least an hour, I’m sure.” She flashes me a heady smile. She’s clearly emboldened by what she’s done, empowered, not ashamed. She’s exactly where I was a year ago: being manipulated, handled, tricked into thinking she’s invincible. Before I can think through it, I give her a discreet little nod. She breaks away and goes back to Gunn’s side.

  As the stagehands lead Colletto and his men to the VIP lounge, Gunn lingers and surveys our troupe. “You all did spectacularly. But I won’t lie: there’re going to be long, tough days ahead. I expect you all at eight a.m. tomorrow, ready to live and breathe brewing shine until Thursday, to ensure that our first shipment’s on time. So enjoy your night.” Then he drops his voice, addresses Joan. “I’m sure Colletto wants to meet you.”

  Joan nods, but as she trails him, she throws a glance at me behind her shoulder.

  I can’t meet her on her fire escape. I can’t have Joan, even if I want her. This is about far more than her and me—

  But as she turns down the hall, these thoughts are strong-armed by a greater truth: this can’t be the last time I watch her walk away.

  “So that’s what she’s been hiding,” Rose says as soon as Gunn, Colletto, and their respective teams of thugs turn down the hall toward the VIP lounge.

  “Stock warned us so many times about her.” Tommy shakes his head. “We saw it that night in the house of magic manipulations, remember? Something evil was going on up there.”

  Rose nods as she plays with her dark, knotty hair. “Stock thought she was working for the devil.”

  “Did you know Joan was in on this?” Ral demands of Grace.

  But I’m half listening at best, inside my own head. Joan’s in deeper than she realizes. Maybe her allegiance to her family and Gunn’s promises have turned her around so much, she’s got no sense of which way’s up. Maybe I can stop her, reason with her, before it’s too late for her, without compromising my score.

  “Alex,” Grace says, and when I look at her, I can tell this isn’t the first time she’s said my name. “Did you know about any of this?”

  I shake my head. “No,” I say sadly, “Joan tricked us all.” I clear my throat. “Excuse me, I think I’m going to leave while I can, get some rest.”

  Grace gives me a sympathetic smile as the rest of the troupe devolves back into their whispers and accusations.

  I burst through the double doors, hit the shock-cold January air. Part of me is fully aware that I should keep walking right out to M Street, find a phone and call Frain, tell him the deal particulars that are as good as done, and not look back. You know what Joan’s room means. You shouldn’t get mixed up with her like that. It will complicate things even further—

  But the other part of me is already climbing up her fire escape.

  DANCE

  JOAN

  I burst through my bedroom door, electric, ecstatic. I pulled it off. I used my magic to trick shine into lasting forever, in front of some of the most dangerous gangsters in DC. I cemented my place as a partner in the largest shine venture in history. I ensured that Ruby and Ben aren’t going to worry about money or a roof over their heads for the rest of their lives.

  The future is bright, the future is running red with magic, and the now—

  The now is Alex Danfrey on my fire escape.

  He’s sitting outside, enclosed by one of his own manipulations, warm as he sits there in the January air, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I run to my window, thrust it open, and back up to let him inside. He climbs over my bed and stands right in front of me.

  And just looking at him, arms crossed, furrowed brow over that perfect face, it dulls all my jitters and relief into a hungry ache. Fate has spun this boy into my orbit and given me something I never would have dreamed of. And regardless of whether I deserve him or not, I’m not going to let him go.

  “It’s done,” I say, relieved. “Thank God it’s done.”

  Before I can stop myself, I wind my hands up his shoulders, to his neck, into his hair, and then I pull him into me.

  Alex kisses me back, but it’s hesitant, unsure—“Joan,” he mumbles, “wait . . . stop.” He pulls away. And then he won’t meet my eyes.

  It feels like I’ve been sucker punched. “What, what’s wrong? Have you changed your mind about me . . . about us?”

  “No. No, just the opposite, I—Christ.” He starts pacing. “This is all just a lot to take in at once. I mean, how long have you known about what you could do?” He steals a breath. “How long have you been planning this with Gunn?”

  “A while,” I say. “I told you what I could last night, but I couldn’t tell you all of it. Gunn’s been so damn cagey about the whole thing, I’ve been scared to breathe a word.”

  Alex looks at me strangely for a second. “Joan, are you really sure you want to go through with this?”

  Like a reflex, I tell him what I’ve been telling myself. “Don’t you know what this deal could do for someone like me, for my family? For you?”

  Alex looks to the door, drops his voice to a whisper. “I know you think you’re a player in this game, that you have control. That you’re making your own choices. But I was once just like you, Joan—my father started working me slowly, carefully. And he had me so far under his thumb by the end, I didn’t even realize I was trapped until I was suffocating.”

  “Alex, this isn’t like that.” Although in some ways, of course it is. But it’s for good reason. And I’m not trapped if I accept why I’m in the cage. I’ve made peace with what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it.

  “Don’t you wonder what happens if Boss McEvoy gets wind of this, if he realizes his underbosses are planning to cut him out, and he manages to get to Gunn first? What’s he going to do?” Alex glances at me, a
fire in his eyes. “Take you out, or steal you. And if it isn’t McEvoy, it’ll be Colletto. Only a matter of time before something goes wrong between him and Gunn—the gangs have hated each other for years.”

  Alex is getting cold feet. I know it, I can sense it. It’s nothing I don’t understand, but I’m beyond it. I just need to coax him, steer him back in. “You don’t understand. This isn’t about just me—it’s about all of us. I’m going to teach all of you the spell, Alex, once this first shipment is taken care of. That’s the point of the troupe, don’t you see? And then we’ll teach other sorcerers, until we can produce a shipment overnight. This deal is going to be the beginning of a goddamned empire. This is an opportunity for all of us, to change our lives, to make something of ourselves.”

  Alex stops pacing. “And did you ever think that something this big could attract other attention?” Then he takes slow, careful steps toward me, like he’s approaching a lion in a cage. “It’s one thing to perform in a magic haven—we get busted one night, you do a few weeks’ time for sorcering, and you come out the wiser. But to be the key sorcerer behind the world’s first eternal shine? Helping to produce and distribute it nationally? You could end up behind bars for life, Joan. What about Ruby and Ben then? You said this is about your family.”

  “Of course it’s about them, but I’m not walking away ’cause I’m scared, Alex.” I give a nervous laugh. “I don’t have that luxury. Besides, I’m not going to get caught.”

  He presses his hands into his forehead. “Christ, then what about other people’s families, Joan? People with fathers and mothers and uncles who are going to get hooked on this stuff, break their family apart just like your uncle did to yours? You want that on your conscience? It’s not, it’s not . . .”

  “What? It’s not right?” I complete his sentence. “Alex, I’ve spent most of the past year hating my magic with every fiber of my soul, cursing and burying it. But the truth? That night wasn’t magic’s fault. It was mine.” I feel the hot push of tears coming on, so I look at the floor. “I’ve got to live with the terrible choice I made back in Parsonage. To blame the magic is the easy way out. And you and I, we were made to do this. There’s nothing wrong about that,” I say, the truth coating my words with something warm and strong. “Besides, what people do with our magic once we make it? That’s not in our control.”

  “You’re telling yourself what you want to hear.”

  “And you’re so scared you’re talking crazy,” I cut in. Lord, maybe my performance really spooked him, maybe the stakes have been raised higher than Alex ever wanted to bet. But I can’t let him walk away. I can’t—won’t—do this without him. “Is this about Colletto, about working for the man who brought your father down?” I take another step toward him. “Of course I understand your problem with that. But if you’re in this world, you do what you need to do to survive. You take comfort in the fact that you’re using him, just like he’s using us. Just like I’m using Gunn, and Gunn’s using me.”

  “So that’s what you really want?” We’re so close, a foot away. “A world where everyone’s just playing and using each other? A world of tricks and lies?”

  “Hell, I can survive it. Especially if I have you in it,” I say. “I told you, you’re my compass through this slippery world, Alex. Just like Ruby and Ben.”

  I study his cast-down eyes, the way he’s biting his lip mercilessly. I feel like I almost have him. Besides, I can’t imagine how it would gut me if he walked away.

  “I don’t want anything happening to you.”

  “So don’t let it. Stay by my side, for our biggest performance yet.”

  He doesn’t answer, just tentatively reaches out and rubs his fingers along my jaw.

  “Maybe I trained you under this roof,” I add slowly, “but the truth? You’re the one who showed me all that magic can really do. When we’re together, we’re so much more than ourselves—we’re extraordinary. You have to feel that too.”

  He drops his hand, takes a sudden step back. “I really shouldn’t be here, Joan.”

  “Why, because of Gunn?” I blurt out, my heart hammering. “Don’t think about Gunn right now.”

  Alex shakes his head. “Because of everything. I need—I need to think.” He quickly climbs over the bed, pulls the window open to leave. No. No no no no no—

  Before he can climb through it, I focus my magic on the glass pane. The window seals closed with a slow, satisfying snap in front of him. Alex doesn’t turn around.

  “You’re lying to yourself, Alex,” I flounder. “Maybe you got into this game for revenge, or for an easy way of making a living after your father burned your old life to the ground. But that can’t be all it’s about for you anymore. I know you feel this too.”

  He doesn’t answer; his fingers dance on the window’s edge.

  “We don’t have to punish ourselves forever. We deserve this. We deserve each other.”

  Alex turns, studies me, waits a beat, a second that feels as long as forever. “You think you know me, Joan,” he finally says quietly.

  “I do know you,” I tell him, believing it with every fiber of my being. “Maybe I don’t know everything”—I give his words from the other night back to him—“but I know the important things.”

  There’s a second, a moment, a minute more. Silence, where the air becomes more charged, tense with almost an electric energy in between us. Alex stares at me. I stare back at him. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. I’m just as sure he’s going to turn and go as I am that he’s going to stay.

  I’m not positive who first gives in to the pull, the magnetic force drawing us together, but once it starts it’s like a train barreling through the wall, and we’re going so fast, so intense, flying, that I can’t slow down, can’t get off, even if I wanted to.

  Alex’s fingers are in my hair—not tentatively, but rough and assured, and he presses into me, his lips on my lips, and over them, under them.

  His arms pull around my waist, the warmth of his hands presses against my back, and then he lifts me off the floor and onto my knees on the bed, facing him. Eye-to-eye with him.

  We tear off each other’s clothes, me pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it onto the floor, him unbuttoning my dress and letting it fall down around me like a shiny black puddle. It’s then that he sees my arm, red and marked and naked under the low lights of my room. He grips it, pulls it closer. As he holds it, I don’t move, don’t breathe.

  But then he takes the field of scars to his lips, kisses them, lets his mouth move up to my shoulder, to my lips, enveloping me completely, accepting me completely. I guide him next to me, and then we’re lying together, horizontal, like the sea and sky merging into a hazy slice of morning.

  “God, I’ve wanted this,” he whispers. “So much. Too much.”

  He flips me under him quickly, and then he’s staring down at me, hovering over me. I study him, his hard jaw, his face, that thick, perfect hair that right now is hanging down like a curtain. He’s more than perfect—he’s magic, addictive. In fact, maybe right now, this is what it’s like, to have an addiction—to want something even more as you’re consuming it, to dread the high wearing off even as you’re at the peak of it.

  I lean up to kiss him, and then grab his neck and pull him into me.

  Alex takes his time, teasing me, moving his mouth down to the hollow of my breastbone, and when I can’t stand the waiting anymore, I make it known. I sigh and bite on his shoulder, and he kisses me, long and deep, muffles my moans.

  We’re standing on a precipice, right at the start of a performance, and then the magic takes over and for one perfect stretch of a moment we are one, we are exactly the same—

  As soon as it’s over, I want him back, want to live in the spell all over again.

  Alex collapses, gently, tenderly curls himself into me. His soft, slippery skin presses against mine. My
body feels spent and sore and full in all the right ways—

  I close my eyes and revel in the warm, textured silence. “I’m so glad I found you,” I whisper after a while. I reach out, run my finger along the side of his face, down to his jaw. I don’t want to let him go, to break the connection. “I can’t imagine what this world would look like right now without you in it.”

  He takes a long time to answer, and when he does, his voice is fading, soft, balanced on the edge of sleep. “Have you really ever pictured the two of us, away from all this?” he whispers, letting his hand rest above my hip. “Somewhere else?”

  I smile, rest my head in the crook of his armpit. “You dreaming, Alex Danfrey?”

  “I mean it. Somewhere new, that we could be together,” he mumbles. “Maybe I could help you . . . help your family . . . you could leave all this, for me.”

  But I can’t imagine a future like that. I’m so far in, so tangled up in this web of magic and secrets, that even imagining a world without it feels like an empty trick. “We’re together right here, right now, Alex,” I say softly, as I play with the ends of his hair. “Just focus on right now.”

  “Right now,” he whispers. I watch his face become a little slacker, his breath start to deepen. He’s inches from sleep.

  But I’m not ready for the now to end, not yet, and so I gently place my hand on his chest, and then slide it down, farther, farther—

  Alex’s eyes are closed, but he smiles a sleepy, heavy version of that half smirk of his. He leans over and kisses me once more. And then he’s pressing against me again, and I dive headfirst into the deep, dark, warm pool of abandon.

  * * *

  I jump at the sound of a knock, a hard swift rap that soon becomes an all-out pound. I’ve got no idea what time it is. Alex is gone, must have slipped out while I was sleeping—I see the imprinted sheets beside me and feel a warm, dull ache. Outside, the parking lot of the Red Den is as dark and quiet as a graveyard, Gunn’s Six Coupe the only car in the far corner of the lot.