by Gwenda Bond
“I don’t see what’s funny about it.”
“I take my laughs where I can get them these days.” I grew serious. “Dad, hide that. Don’t let anyone know you have it. I’ll tell you when I need it back. That’s how you can help keep me safe. Okay?”
He didn’t outright agree. Still, he put it in his inner coat pocket.
I got up, remembering the stage littered with bullets. Someone had to get rid of those, and it might as well be me. “I have another show to do tonight. You don’t have to hang around unless you want—I won’t feel better until that thing is far away from me.”
thirty-seven
When I stepped out onto the stage for my last performance of the day, Dad was in the same spot in the audience. Front row, center.
I hadn’t been sure he wouldn’t leave immediately. And I hadn’t been lying before—I was eager for the coin to be away from here, buying Dez and me breathing room for the next couple of weeks.
No such luck. But, hey, I had another chance to impress my dad. And this time, I’d be doing the kind of magic Dad and I had in common.
Thurston was still beaming at me from one side of my dad. Raleigh sat on his other. Dad and Thurston seemed to be deep in chummy conversation. No Brandon.
Dez passed close behind me. “Everything aces?” he murmured.
“I think so. He took it.”
He squeezed my hand, and then I launched into my patter. “Welcome. I’m the Miraculous Moira.”
My dad and Thurston stopped talking and settled down to watch.
I was at my best for the entire act, every laugh line on point, the coffin escape executed just as intended. I beat my best straitjacket escape time by a full twenty seconds. My magic expressed like it usually did, and I controlled it easily.
I felt relieved that the coin was safely in Dad’s pocket, unable to boost me into territory that made me feel like someone other than myself. Maybe I owed Dad. If he hadn’t been so unreasonable, I might have gone my whole life and never known what I could do.
The Praestigae wouldn’t have found out either, though.
When I finished my act, Dad applauded along with everyone else.
He, Thurston, and Raleigh stayed in their seats while I hopped down off the edge of the stage to meet people and sign autographs. Dez bent down and tapped my shoulder. “You need me to hang, just in case?”
“No, I’m good. Go throw pointy steel at random ladies and make them believe you love them.”
“I will do the first part, but not the second.” It was true, he’d taken the heart out of his act. I hadn’t asked; he’d just stopped doing it.
I hurriedly vamped for photos and scribbled autographs, nervous that Dad was still around. We’d had our big conversation. He had the coin. He needed to get it away from here. He and Thurston were still conversing, and it only then occurred to me that I probably should be rushing to end that. Who knew what they were discussing? I hoped it wasn’t Dad’s collection of magical items. Real magic and the coin were the last things we needed Thurston to revive interest in.
The last audience member left, and I went over to face the real judging panel. I couldn’t help it—I wanted Dad to recognize that I was talented. I wanted to hear him say he was proud.
He looked up at me and smiled, by all appearances a sincere smile. “Honey, you were great.”
“Yes!” I fist-pumped the air, smiling so hard my teeth ached. I wasn’t capable of playing it cool, not about this. I’d wanted him to say those words for so long.
He and Thurston laughed.
“She’s fantastic,” Thurston said. “The crowds love her.” He took out his phone and glanced at it. “Your seats are secured. You guys will watch the main show from the best spot in the house, then come have a drink with me afterward?”
“Sounds perfect,” Dad said. “Okay with you, Moy?”
Hmm. He was using his business meeting voice, the charm he laid on when he wanted something from someone. But how could I say no without raising Thurston’s suspicions? “Of course—you shouldn’t leave without seeing the Cirque.”
“I can’t believe you kept the fact that this guy’s your father a secret,” Thurston said.
“You would have looked at me differently.”
“True enough,” he agreed.
He led us all up the midway, narrating the journey. We passed Dez’s stage as his crowd was clearing out. I waved to him and gave him a shrug that said I was going along for this ride.
Thurston’s assistant was waiting for us in front of the big top. “Get these guys all settled,” Thurston told her. “I’ll see you at my trailer afterward.” He put on his booming ringmaster’s voice: “Enjoy the show!”
“I intend to,” my dad said, silk-handkerchief smooth.
The assistant steered us inside and down to a section in the middle of the stands in front of the center ring, behind a flock of Jules’s adorable fans, the Valentines, in red tutus and heart T-shirts.
I sat between Dad and Raleigh, then leaned toward Dad. I hadn’t been able to say anything in front of Thurston, but now I could. “Dad, shouldn’t you get going? Get that . . . gift . . . back home.”
The lights went down and then came back up, settling into the level for Thurston’s entrance and the acrobats who were up first.
“We’ll leave tonight,” Dad said. “I promise.”
“I just . . . I want it out of here.”
Raleigh butted in. “So, you guys are copacetic again? That was quicker than I expected.”
“Getting there,” I said before Dad could answer.
“I want to know how you did that bullet trick,” Raleigh said.
There was no way that was happening. I pulled out a Mona Lisa smile. “Maybe someday,” I said, thankful my voice didn’t squeak.
“This has been good for you, being here this summer?” Dad said to me, keeping his voice low as the band started.
“All I wanted was to be a magician,” I said, focusing on him. “Like you. Yeah, the performing part’s been good. The rest . . . overwhelming sometimes. Scary.” Concern crossed his face like a shadow, and I added, “But I wouldn’t change it.”
His head dipped, and then he turned to watch the show. He legitimately seemed to enjoy the first act, especially Jules’s mom and her herd of giant milky-white horses. She flipped from one to the other and controlled them like it was her magical power.
After she finished, the lights brightened to signal intermission, and Dad got up. “Be right back,” he said.
I stayed where I was. There was a lingering question I had for Raleigh, and this might be my only chance to ask it anytime soon. “Why did you take Dita’s bow tie?” I asked.
He looked over each shoulder, then back at me. “We’re going to talk about that now?”
“Just curious. Why?”
He shrugged. “I was about to get caught, and I had it in my hand, so I stuffed it in my pocket. Wearing it was dumb, but I never expected anyone to notice.”
“Oops.”
“Major oops.” He shrugged, though, and said, “I’ll be getting back out on the road soon. Thurston doesn’t seem to be holding any ill will. Maybe I can steal your spot next summer.”
I poked his shoulder. “Dream on.”
“Oh, I will, Pixie. I’ll have plenty of time to dream up some great new stuff.”
We smiled at each other. And Dad returned, handing us both sodas.
The lights signaled the beginning of act two. Act two was where the showstoppers were. I pointed out Jules as a friend and the first breakout star, though the screaming joy of the girls in front of us had made her easy to identify. And when the Garcias raced out to take the trapeze, I pointed out Dita. “My roomie,” I said.
Thurston’s assistant appeared at the end of the show to tell us he’d meet us at his trailer.
“Dad,” I said as Raleigh and I led him across the grounds, “you don’t have to stay for this. I really think you should get going.”
; Raleigh coughed. “A little rude.”
“He knows why,” I said.
“A quick drink and we’re out of here,” Dad said, looping his arm around my shoulder. He was up to something.
I didn’t like it.
When we got to the trailer, the lights were already on. Thurston popped the cork on a bottle of champagne as soon as we entered, and began filling flutes.
“What’d you think?” he asked. “Good enough company for your daughter?”
Dad accepted the champagne. He narrowed his eyes at me accepting a glass but didn’t protest. “It’s a great show. World-class. I can tell that Moira has learned a lot here.”
I smiled.
“But I’m going to need you to release her from her contract,” he went on. “I’m sure Raleigh would be happy to stay and take over.”
My smile died. Betrayal burned in my chest, and my palms heated, but I forced the magic away. I set down my champagne flute and said, “Thurston, don’t listen. Ignore him. I’m not leaving.”
“Why would you?” Thurston asked. He set down the champagne bottle.
Dad didn’t back off. “Mr. Meyer . . . Thurston . . . now that I’ve seen her, well . . . I was hardheaded. She wanted me to give her a job at the beginning of the year and I wouldn’t even watch her. She needs to come back home and accept a job at the Menagerie, with me.”
Thurston seemed to be considering.
Somehow I managed to keep my voice level. “I’m here through the end of the season,” I said. “I appreciate it, but I decline your offer.”
“Moira,” Dad said, “that’s enough.”
“No, it’s enough from you.” He wasn’t making the offer because he’d seen me. He was making it because he wanted me under his thumb. Which I could understand, but that didn’t mean I’d go along with it.
“You told me to tell you if you were making things worse,” Raleigh said. “You’re making things worse.”
He said it calmly. Dad scowled.
Thurston picked up his flute and took a sip. “I have the utmost respect for you, Mr. Mitchell, but my loyalty to my performers comes first. She doesn’t want to leave. I’m not going to make her.”
“She’s just a girl,” Dad said. “She should be at home with me.”
“‘Just a girl’ is not a thing.” I gritted my teeth. “And I’m eighteen. You can’t order me around anymore.”
“She’s an adult. It’s her call,” Thurston said.
Relief poured through me. I wasn’t ready to leave yet, to vacate my stage and leave Dez to the Praestigae’s wolves. Besides, Dad couldn’t save me from them. Only I could save myself.
And even that was a maybe.
I was done with this charade, though. “Dad, I told you what I needed from you earlier. Do that, and maybe I’ll forget you tried to pull this stunt. See you when we get to Vegas.”
Dad said, “Hang on now—”
“Thanks for everything, Thurston. See you tomorrow.” I drained my flute and left.
I passed a handful of performers in the darkness lit only by RVs and security lights before I heard Dad calling after me. “Moira, wait!”
Against my better judgment, I did.
“Your mother and her associates . . . you really want me to leave you here, with them knowing where you are?”
I held out my arms. “Give me a hug, then go catch your red-eye back home. Put my gift in the safest location you have, and wait for me to contact you.”
He hesitated. “I’ll cut off your funds.”
I sighed. “That’s fine. I get paid. I have all the supplies I need until the end of the season.”
I forced the issue on the hug, wrapping my arms around him. “It was good to see you,” I told him, “even if you are being an incredible jackass.”
“I just love you so much, sweetie.” Dad’s voice was strained. I didn’t want to see or hear him cry.
Not when I was still mad at him over what he’d tried to pull with Thurston.
“Ditto.”
“You can come home anytime, if you change your mind,” he said. “And if there’s any more trouble, call me. Please? You really were great.”
“I’ll be home in a couple more weeks—to perform. And I’ll be in touch about this.” I patted his jacket where he’d stashed the coin.
“I don’t know . . .”
“Have a safe trip. Remember, keep everyone out of the place where you put it. Don’t trust anyone near it.”
I let go and left him there before we could fight anymore.
thirty-eight
After Phoenix came a trip up the coast to San Diego. I was currently curled up in my own bed in the Airstream because Dez had told me Brandon wanted him to drop by and hang out that night. Otherwise, we’d have been together, worrying over our lack of a viable plan.
Dez and I had both spent the days after my dad’s visit looking over our shoulders a lot. I’d half expected the Rex and Regina to show to mess with Dad, but they probably hadn’t heard he was coming until it was too late for them to make the kind of dramatic yet sneaky entrance they preferred. Something told me that neither one showing up to threaten us or request a coin update since then wasn’t respect for our requested timeline.
Dita hadn’t noticed the coin was missing yet, so far as I could tell. Dad had texted me an apology after he was home that said he was following my wishes.
A giant clock might as well have ticked in my ears all the time. I was caught in a straitjacket without any good method for getting out of it. Dez and I were running out of time, and other than stashing the coin, we had not come up with a grand plan to save our souls. Or our lives.
Still, San Diego was sunny and beautiful—even at the fairgrounds on the edge of the sprawling beachside paradise where we were set up. The ocean breeze and nearing the end of the season combined to create a sense of abandon among the Cirque troupe. Thurston had scheduled buses to take us down to the beach for a cookout the next night, before our first shows here.
I was finally closing in on drowsiness when my phone dinged with a new message. I fumbled to silence it, hoping the sound hadn’t woken up Dita.
By all appearances, she was deep asleep.
It was from Dez: Meet me out at the parking lot. Don’t let anyone follow you. xxx, D
I checked the time—yikes, it was later than I’d thought—2:45 in the morning. But I texted back: Be out in five.
Dita didn’t stir as I pulled on pants and a jacket. I tiptoed up the hall, holding my breath as I crept past Remy’s room and gingerly opened and shut the front door behind me.
The grounds were deserted. I had no clue what Dez would need at this hour, but it fit the pattern for the nonpattern of the Rex’s and Regina’s sporadic appearances. So I did my best to prepare for an interrogation, fabricating a cover story about having trouble using my magic to find the coin.
The wind wrapped around me, a constant presence as I walked through the darkened grounds. A border of swaying palm trees flanked the parking lot, and I approached them slowly, looking for Dez.
I didn’t see him. Or anyone else.
Tucking my arms around myself, I continued on, heading toward the parking lot. A few overflow vehicles were parked out here, including my convertible.
I didn’t see anyone out here either.
Until a motorcycle roared to life at the far end of the lot, its lights flicking on, brightness blinding me. I lifted a hand to shield my eyes as the bike hit a blistering speed in my direction.
“Dez?” I called, spots in my vision. I whirled to dash back into the safety of the grounds. I didn’t care if anyone saw me and laughed. This entire thing was too creepy.
I blinked, my vision clearing.
And I stopped just short of barreling into a trio of guys, blocking my way.
I only recognized one of them. By his cast. Brandon.
Cold fingers of dread walked up my spine.
The phone Dez and Brandon still shared. Brandon had lured me out her
e. And nobody else knew where I was.
“Brandon, let me go back,” I begged. “Think about Dez.”
“I am,” he said, and spat onto the ground. “He only thinks about you now.”
The motorcycle’s roar was far too close. I tried to feint around the boys, choosing Brandon’s side. I collided with the cast on his hand.
He swore and shoved me back.
Wheels screeched on pavement as the driver of the motorcycle hit the brakes.
“You don’t want to do this,” I said, desperate. “Don’t let him make you.”
“Sure we do,” one of the other guys countered. He was older than Dez and Brandon, with a sprawling tattoo that crept up his neck. A snake about to strike, fangs ready.
The roar of the motorcycle died. “Bring her over here!” the Rex called.
The boys came toward me as one. “Help! Somebody! Help me!” I shouted, and dodged to one side. I made it around them. If I could make it to camp, I could raise an alarm.
For that matter, where were the security guys now?
I grunted as one of the boys dove into my back, arms locking around mine to hold them down as he dragged me toward him. The sickly sweet smell of alcohol wafted off him as he hauled me in the direction of the parking lot. I tried to slip his hold like I would a straitjacket, but he just moved his arms into a different position.
I called my magic. Come, now.
My magic answered, and I grabbed for the boy’s shirt. But I froze up—I couldn’t think of what to do. So I grappled with the boy instead, scratching at his hands. He marched me forward, and I stomped at his feet.
At last, he spun me around, and I faced the Rex.
He was helmetless, in one of his long suit coats. Like an undertaker.
“You can let her go, Jay,” he said. “For now. Let’s see what she has to say for herself.”
What did that mean? I wondered. Why was he here? Why did he want to see me without Dez?
The guy holding my arms released me, shoving me toward the Rex. Brandon and the other guy approached, flanking me.
I came to a stop at the Rex’s feet.
“I thought we had a deal,” I managed to get out, backing as I stood. I collided with one of the boys and stopped moving.