Girl in the Shadows

by Gwenda Bond

  How was it possible to escape people who didn’t have to play by anybody else’s rules? “What about that chant?” I said. “What did it mean?”

  “‘The Praestigae are freedom,’” he said. “‘Anything else is death. We must always remember.’ That’s what we—they—believe.”

  “I don’t think I’ll like that kind of freedom.”

  Dez grew even more serious and looked straight at me. “Moira, he knows you exist now. I don’t know how you can get away, but maybe your dad can help. I believe the Regina was trying to protect you. Keep you out of this.”

  “Those maternal instincts really kicked in today,” I said. My mother had barely moved.

  “I didn’t know at first why she wanted me to get close to you and keep it quiet from him. When one of them asks for something, though, you do it. I thought it was because I told her Nancy Maroni was interested in you. But then . . . it made sense. When you told me the truth.”

  “When did she ask you?” My heart waited for the answer. “Before that first date?”

  He nodded. “Right before.”

  “Was any of it real?” I asked. Or was I a magician fooled by a regular old liar?

  He raised his hands in front of him, looking frustrated. But he answered. “What was between us was real. You lied to me too, but it didn’t make everything a lie. I know it’s over. I was never good enough for you.” His lips twisted into a smile with no humor in it. “We’re from two different worlds.”

  “Stop.” He was giving up. I wouldn’t let him. “You could have told.”

  I hadn’t seen it before, but now I couldn’t see anything else. This was about punishing himself. He didn’t deserve it.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You could have told the Rex about me. After I told you about my magic. You could have done it days ago. You could have done it today, and . . . you didn’t.”

  “Don’t make me more ‘noble’ than I am. Remember, Brandon’s in there. And I thought about telling the Rex . . .”

  “You thought about it, and you didn’t do it. None of this would have happened if you’d sold me out. You’d be back on top. You would have gotten credit for bringing in another girl with magic, the next Regina-to-be. But you didn’t say a word.”

  “I couldn’t. Okay? I should have. But I couldn’t.” He sounded angry at himself.

  “Look at me.” I stood up and moved in front of him. I reached down for his hands, and he let me take them, though he looked skeptical. Like this was all a trick.

  I pulled him to his feet. “I trust you. Mostly.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I’m not running. We are going to do this together.”

  “You have to go.”

  “Dez,” I said, “I think I love you.”

  He had nothing to say to that. His eyes went watery, like pennies at the bottom of a fountain. “I think I love you too, Moira Mitchell. You do know I’m the worst idea you’ve ever had, though?”

  “Back at you,” I whispered.

  “We are so screwed.”

  His lips met mine, and he wrapped me in his arms, and I held on to him as tightly as I knew how. We sealed our truce, our partnership, our honest agreement, with a kiss. It was bittersweet. I had no idea how either of us would get out of this, if we even could. Maybe we would fail miserably. But we would do it together.

  For once, I was in a situation that seemed truly inescapable.

  thirty-three

  We sat, side by side, exhausted and nervous when the doctor finally came to the door an hour later.

  “I need you to talk to him,” he said, obviously speaking to Dez.

  “All right,” Dez said.

  “You want me to come with you?” I asked.

  “I’d better see him alone.”

  Dez disappeared into the bus, and I went back to waiting. There were more people showing up at the field, performers and customers. It was time for the afternoon midway opening. I heard music in the distance.

  I had a show to do. Two shows. We both did, the last in El Paso. We could cancel, but I didn’t know how Thurston would feel about that. I had a feeling he was a big believer in the show going on.

  Such a small concern, in the midst of so many huge ones. But it was an immediate problem, one I could solve right now. I turned it over in my head, making a plan B about what I could do for the audience on short notice, assistantless, in case Dez wouldn’t leave. I wasn’t going to make him.

  I could back up Brandon as the assistant for Dez’s sets, if he wanted to do them. For all I knew, the Rex might have some other spy who’d report that he skipped them, which would make things even worse.

  Ten minutes later, Dez came back out. I got up to greet him.

  “He isn’t even mad,” he said. “At him or me.”

  His hand balled into a fist, like he wanted to punch something.

  “Because there was nothing you could do. He knows you’d rather be in his place. And the Rex is his leader, so he can’t let himself be mad at him. How bad is it?”

  “The doctor wanted me to talk him into surgery. It’s the only way he’ll ever get full control of his hand back. A long shot even then.”

  “If money’s an issue—”

  “It’s not. Thurston would pay. The doctor called him. Brandon doesn’t want to abandon his post. Or me.”

  “He could change his mind.”

  Dez relaxed his fingers, shook them out, and considered his own hand. Like he was thinking about what it would be to not have it work anymore. “They have to do it right away, if they’re going to do it with a shot at success. Brandon told him to do the best he could and put a cast on. They have to put him under, even for that. He’ll be here overnight. At least.”

  “I’m sorry. And I know this seems like nothing, but—”

  “We have shows to do. I know.” He held out his hand to me, and I took it. “I’m not going to make you do yours solo. We’ll come back later.”

  “And we’ll make a plan,” I said as we started walking. “We will not let the Rex win.”

  I wished there was as much hope in my heart as in my words.

  We packed up and left for Albuquerque the next day. I drove behind Remy and Dita; Dez rode in the medical bus with a still mostly sleeping Brandon.

  There’d been no sign or word from the Rex or Regina, not even to check on Brandon.

  That shouldn’t have surprised me, but somehow it did.

  Dez and I had made a plan in stolen moments when we weren’t attending to Brandon or performing or driving, and I put it into play on our first rehearsal day in Albuquerque.

  I waited for Remy and Dita to head off to lunch together, then I texted Dez. He must have already been lingering outside, because he knocked a moment later. He’d probably come from the medical bus, which Brandon would be released from in a couple of days, due to continued improvement. Albeit with strong pain meds and daily checkups. The doctor wasn’t thrilled about skipping surgery and just resetting and immobilizing the bones as best he could, but he seemed tentatively hopeful the results might be better than he’d feared at first.

  Until the next time the Rex felt like punishing Dez, anyway.

  “Hurry,” I said, waving Dez inside.

  I had managed to convince Dez that I’d call Dad soon. Just not yet. The first step of the plan was for me to attempt to do exactly what the Rex had ordered—use my magic to find the coin. Once we had it, we would have a little leverage. My mom needed it. And it was a sacred item to the Praestigae.

  But would the Rex protect her or think I could be a replacement instead?

  We had no crystal ball, not even the benefit of Nan Maroni’s tarot cards. This was our best shot at the moment.

  “Did you figure out how you’re going to do this?” Dez asked.

  “Trial and error, I guess.”

  I closed my eyes and pictured the scene at that house in El Paso, the Rex picking up the hammer. The cool feel of the metal points again
st my cheek. My heart pounding, like I was back in those terrible moments.

  I called on my magic, and it responded, my palms warming.

  “This is going to look silly,” I murmured, and opened my eyes. I lifted my hands and held them out.

  And I began to walk through the Airstream like some kind of diviner or a kook with a dousing rod in search of water. Charlatan stuff.

  “If this works,” I said, “I can put it in my act. And start doing the worst magic tricks.”

  “I don’t think zombie arms is a magic trick,” Dez countered, following close behind me.

  “Shh,” I said, attempting to concentrate.

  I felt exactly nada besides warm palms as we made our way into Remy’s remarkably clean room, the bed made, even. There were stacks of mystery novels, the same kind Dita was always reading, lined up at the top of his bed. Some of that chalk they put on their hands and feet to prevent slipperiness sat there too. I waved my hands all around.

  “Nothing?” Dez asked.

  “Nothing,” I confirmed. “And I can’t tell if it’s because there really is nothing, or because I’m not doing anything.”

  My phone rang, shrill, and I jumped and bashed my knee against the table. “Ow.”

  “Who is it?” Dez asked. “If it’s your dad, you should answer.”

  It usually was Dad. I fished the phone out of my pocket and checked the screen, prepared to ignore the call.

  “It’s not him.” I slid to answer. “Amber? Hi, what’s up?”

  There was a moment of silence, and then my father spoke. “Where are you?”

  Oh no.

  “I can explain,” I started.

  Dez’s eyebrows shot up. “What is it?” he whispered.

  I held up a hand for quiet. “Dad?”

  “Yes. Where are you?”

  I scrambled through my brain for what to do. We had four short weeks left after this, and we’d be creeping closer to Vegas the entire time. We were in trouble he might be able to help with.

  My show was tight. There was a line after every performance waiting for autographs.

  He might as well come now.

  “Moira Mitchell, answer me. This is over.”

  If we could find the coin, we would have a bargaining chip with him too. He’d had Raleigh looking for it, after all. I only needed to buy us a little more time. Enough to locate it.

  “I’m performing magic,” I said. “With the Cirque American. Why don’t you come and see us next week in Phoenix?”

  “You’re where? No, I will not. You will come home now.”

  “I won’t.”

  “This is not a negotiation. You lied to me. You can’t be there. It’s dangerous.”

  “Because of the magic coin you sent Raleigh here to find? Yeah, I know about that.”

  “Why—”

  “I’m an adult, and this is a job. You will come when I invite you, and watch me perform, and I will talk to you after. We have important things to discuss. Deal?”

  I had much worse fears these days than worrying about my dad disapproving of my career choices.

  Anger seeped out of the phone. “This is why you were asking about your mother. About my warehouse. The coin.”

  “Yep.”

  We were both steaming into the phone. Now it was a matter of who was most stubborn. Finally, he said, “Send me the time and place. I’ll call in a favor for someone to cover the Menagerie.”

  I hit ended the call. “Well, that’s great,” I said to Dez.

  “He’s coming?” Dez asked.

  “He’s coming,” I said. Which made the heat of my magic surge, accompanied by a bucket of nervous energy. “Let’s check the rest of the place before they get back.”

  We found no trace of the coin anywhere in the Airstream or on the grounds or backstage. We conducted the entire search with me trying to be as discreet as possible about my lifted radar hands. By the end of the day, I had to admit the problem was more than likely me. The coin was here. I just wasn’t finding it. “I don’t think I’m doing it right.”

  “Maybe your mom can explain how.” Dez frowned. “Though why hasn’t she found it, if magic can?”

  “Low on magic, remember. Maybe it’s more complicated than it seems, takes too much?”

  “What if it’s not even here?” he asked.

  “It is, and Remy and Jules know where. If this doesn’t work, we’ll have to ask them straight out.”

  Disappointing the Maronis and Garcias wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I might not have any other option. It was all too easy to picture Dita’s face when she found out her partner in crime, her roomie, was just the latest person keeping her in the dark.

  Dez was on Brandon night-shift duty, so I went back to the Airstream and lay on my bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Dita and Remy hadn’t made it home yet. I was alone. I called my magic to me and played with transforming whatever was handy without even looking. I was getting better. My fingers and then body filled with the heat that meant I was using magic. I no longer felt like it would burn me up from the inside out. Not when I had it under control and successfully guided it, anyway.

  I made a coin into a paper heart, and then another. And another.

  I pictured myself as a cup, the fiery red sea inside lessening a fraction with everything I transformed.

  Maybe if I did this enough, I’d use my magic all up and things would get simple again. Except I couldn’t use it all.

  Or I’d shatter.

  thirty-four

  When our first day of Albuquerque shows arrived, Dez and I stood in silence behind the curtain, moments before we’d take the stage. I was doing the coffin escape for the early show, and the bullet catch for the late one. My tent was always full, but people seemed to appreciate the drama of the bullet catch more.

  Which would be better for Dad to see? The coffin escape, maybe. I didn’t use actual magic in a way he’d spot. But what if he wanted to watch both? He’d see in a second there was no way for Dez to get me the marked bullet, no other assistant to pass it to me when I donned my safety gear. Of course, I was going to have to tell him I knew all about my magic anyway. A demonstration might be in order.

  “Ready?” Dez asked.

  “Let’s go.”

  Our spirits were flagging. The lack of progress in finding the coin and Brandon’s doctor’s troubled face whenever we saw him didn’t help matters.

  I was a little off during my performance. But I made it through, presto chango, abracadabra, free from straitjacket and coffin. I took my bows, and the audience applauded as loud as always.

  This was what being a professional meant, I guessed. Even your not-best was at a level people would appreciate. I still didn’t like phoning it in.

  I signed autographs quickly, smiling as I posed with audience members for selfies and counting the seconds until I’d be done. I had a pressing question for Dez.

  As soon as we were alone in the tent, I asked, “Can we get a message to my mother or go see her?”

  “The Rex and Regina summon you or pay a visit. It’s the only way.”

  “But they’re trailing us, right? Around? We’ll probably see them soon?”

  “I wouldn’t sound so eager,” he said. “But yes. I’m surprised they’ve taken so long to show.”

  He wore a troubled expression.

  “What is it? What did you just think?” I said, prodding. “Honesty, please.”

  He messed with the curtain in front of him. “That he’s probably keeping her from coming to see you to be an asshole. Because he can.”

  “Ah. I can see that.” But I wanted my mother to come. Then she could tell me what I was doing wrong.

  I hadn’t realized what an idyllic existence I’d had at the Cirque before. Now everything from my friendships to my job felt like a false front, an illusion I’d conjured. An illusion that would leave a terrible reality in its wake.

  Dez pulled the curtain aside. “Shit,” he said.

&nb
sp; The devil was waiting for us backstage with a toothy grin in an overly fancy gray suit. “Language, my loyal subject,” he said to Dez. “And in the presence of our princess.”

  I swallowed saying I wasn’t his anything.

  My mother was with him, polished in that way she’d described as an illusion. She had on orangey-red lipstick that clashed with her hair, and another long sleeveless dress. Black this time. I’d only ever seen her look thin, pale, sickly that once. It made me wonder.

  I had no reason to distrust her completely, though. Not yet. She’d been right about how bad it’d be if the Rex discovered I existed.

  So I could play nice for a few minutes to get a conversation alone with her. “I wish we’d known you were coming,” I said, as pleasantly as I could manage, as much a performance as anything I’d ever done on the stage. “We’d have rolled out the red carpet.”

  “Do you have one?” the Rex asked, his voice so mild that you might believe he was a charmer, if you’d just met him.

  “Afraid not,” Dez said, careful. “What can we do for you?”

  “We didn’t want to risk another scene. But we wanted an update on your progress.”

  I pulled out the chair in front of the nearest makeup table and gestured to it.

  “My queen,” the Rex said.

  “Thank you,” my mother murmured.

  I was still trying to be nice, but I caught a movement in Dez’s jaw. He’d clenched it tight, probably without even knowing.

  So I asked, “Did you also want to know how Brandon is? After the—”

  “Punishment?” he said. “A fair one. He’s alive, isn’t he? That’s all I need to know.”

  “He’s alive,” Dez said.

  “So”—the Rex clapped his hands together under another grin—“where’s the coin? I feel you are going to be lucky for us, Moira.”

  I fidgeted.

  “Speak up,” he said, harshness creeping in. “I can’t read minds. Alas.”

  “Um,” I said. “I think I need some help from my mother.”

  “You haven’t found it yet?” The Rex’s smile vanished, his expression serious as the grave he’d threatened to put Dez in that day.

  “We’ve been trying. But I don’t think I know how to use my magic like that.”