Girl in the Shadows (15 page)

seventeen

I waited until my teeth stopped chattering and the goose bumps disappeared from my arms, but I took off before I had to face an angry Raleigh again. I didn’t want him to sic his crow on me. I knew I needed to give him the space to cool off,
then
I’d plead my case. I kept my fingers crossed that he had a good show. The boost of a well-received performance might help soothe away his anger.

All this meant that I navigated back to the Airstream in my chilled, damp clothes. The memory of that redheaded snake lady returned, and I wondered why I was still thinking about her, a random audience member. I stopped in my tracks.

The why smacked me in the face so hard it almost knocked me down.

Nan Maroni had said that the magic in her tarot cards meant they always told the truth. According to her, I’d transformed the Magician card into my story. There’d been two figures I couldn’t identify on it, along with me and my dad.

One of them had been a woman with long red hair.

That’s crazy,
I told myself.
There are a lot of women with long red hair.

But this one had sat in the front row, acting strangely. And there’d been that moment while I was trapped in the box when it had seemed that a push, some aid came from outside to lend me strength.

Was that woman my mother? If so, why would she bother to show up and then just leave?

I hurried through the dark. I wanted to get changed and go looking for her. Maybe she was still here.

Except I didn’t have to. When I got to the Airstream, the woman was waiting beside it. She glanced around.

“Nobody’s with me,” I said. “We can go inside, if we need privacy.”

How I got out the words so calmly was a mystery. My knees were shaking.

“No,” she said, her voice quiet. “I can’t stay long. It’s too risky. You know who I am?”

Her surprise that I might have guessed was plain. I walked closer, my heart stuttering with each step. “You’re her. My mother. The ghost.”

A thin smile. “That’s why it’s too risky,” she said.

She was beautiful, with a heart-shaped face, and a light dusting of freckles not so different than mine. But up close, bathed in the light of the security pole nearest the Airstream, she looked paler, weaker, than she had in the tent. The bright red of her hair took on a brittle cast.

“Because you’re one of the Praestigae?” I hoped I’d said it right; endless Google searches had convinced me only the term was originally Latin. It didn’t show up in relationship to any secret societies—criminal, magical, or otherwise.

“Never say that word again,” she said. “You don’t know what it means.”

“Tell me, then,” I said. “Why did you leave? Why are you here now?”

Voices reached us, some people returning to their RVs after the midway. She flinched.

“It’s nobody,” I said, relieved when no one came into view. They must have been headed to another row. “Why are you here?”

She glanced around again. “I wish we could have hours to talk,” she said, speaking more quickly. “I wish I hadn’t been forced to leave you. But . . . I did it for you. So you could choose your future. Your dad’s been good to you, hasn’t he?”

I nodded.

“The man who would have raised you otherwise . . . Count yourself lucky. He can never know about you. That’s why I’m here—you should leave the past in the past. You shouldn’t be here. You are not meant to be Praestigae, so do not say it again. The night could be listening. You have to promise me.”

I knew I didn’t owe her anything, but she sounded near-panicked. “I promise.”

She lifted a hand like she might reach out to touch me, but then dropped it. “I didn’t want the life for you that I have. I saw your life unwinding before me, a dark road, and so I tried to make sure it would be in the light instead. I came to warn you. To tell you to be careful. Your magic is strong, but it does have limits. I came here to tell you . . . you should go home. You might be discovered here.”

I ignored that part. I wasn’t going anywhere. “Nan Maroni told me about magic. She said it’s like a cup. If you empty it and it breaks, then you don’t get any do-overs. You die. But I don’t understand
how
my magic works. It just . . . happens.”

“Nancy Maroni knows about you?” She blinked at me. “About what you can do?”

“She figured it out. She’s where I heard . . . that word.” My mother seemed stricken by the news, so I added, “I don’t think she’ll tell anyone. But wait. Why would I be discovered here, as opposed to at home?”

She motioned from the top of her head down to her shoulders. “You can see how tired I look, out here. I am
allowing
you to. In the tent, you saw the me that is an illusion. The me I must keep presenting to my people. My cup—as you put it—is almost empty. I do not transform anymore. I create illusions, because it takes less magic.” She reached out with her hand and touched my arm. “The reason you’re in danger of being discovered is because we are looking for something here that used to belong to us. There were rumors last year, then more recently, that it had surfaced at the Cirque American. A coin from the Circus Maximus.”

“Why do you want the coin?”

“It’s sacred to the Praestigae. And, with it, I can keep using magic. It will fill me up. Without it . . .”

“You die?”

Oh God. The Praestigae
were
the ones looking for the magic coin. My mother needed it.

“I am their . . . only magic user left. That is why they can never find out about you. Now you understand why I have to go. Why we can’t know each other.”

I wanted to grab her, refuse to let her leave. “But I still have so many questions.”

“I don’t have time to answer them.” She took my hands in hers. “I am proud of the young woman you’ve become. Your magic, I bottled it up with an old charm—it was loosed when you came into contact with another source of magic. We never thought you would.”

“We?”

“Your dad and me.”

So he knew. He knew, and he’d never said a word.

She hurried on. “After tonight, I think your magic will come when you’re in danger, until you can control it. You can’t let anyone know you have it. If
he
finds out about you, I’m too weak to protect you.”

“He who?” I asked, trying to keep her here, just a little longer. But my questions weren’t the only reason I didn’t want her to go. I never thought I’d get the chance to talk to my mother. And now, for it to be over so quickly . . .

“Better that you never know.” She squeezed my hands. “You shouldn’t be doing those escapes, not here, and not until you learn to control your magic. It’s not safe. When you
must
use magic, you have to guide it. Otherwise, it will do whatever it wants. It can consume you. And the more you use it, the more it’ll change you.” Gently, she slipped her hands from mine. “I have to go.”

I resisted the urge to argue. I couldn’t give up doing escapes. So I asked, “Will I see you again?”

She gave a sad smile. “Not if we’re lucky.”

And then she released my hands and walked away from me. I hesitated. I rushed around the Airstream after her. But I saw no one. Whether she was hiding from me or not, casting an illusion, something told me I wouldn’t find her again unless she wanted me to. I didn’t think this evening could get any weirder.

My phone buzzed with a message from Dita:
You still alive? Don’t forget to come over.

Crap
. I had to go to Dita’s costume unveiling. What I wanted to do was call my father and demand he tell me the truth.

I wrote her back:
Be right there.

I had a little time. She’d told me she wouldn’t come out of the dressing room until right before she and her brothers went on.

I let myself into the RV.

I just met my mother.

My mother, who claimed she left to protect me. Who’d forbidden me from saying the word
Praestigae
. Who was worried some guy she answered to would find out about me. Who said I shouldn’t do escapes.

My mother, who would run out of magic without the Garcia family coin. Which used to belong to the Praestigae and was sacred to them.

I didn’t think the Garcias were connected, so that part didn’t make sense. But then, none of this did. Neither did magic being real.

I dug out a clean, dry outfit and changed into it. Walking in the night air had dried my hair at least.

Dad had known. All this time, he’d known I had magic hidden inside me, just waiting to come out.

I took out my phone and called him.

“Moira? Is everything okay?”

He sounded alarmed to hear from me, and I realized why. It was intermission. He was midshow.

Well, then we could both be alarmed. I leaned against the wall beside the closet. “I’m not sure.”

“You didn’t call right now to avoid having to talk to me for more than two minutes, did you? I miss you, sweetheart.”

“The story you used to tell me about my mother. Do you know anything else about her?”

Shocked silence stretched between us. In it, I heard the familiar noises of the Menagerie backstage behind him. The managers for the various departments called out to each other. Some of the assistants joked around, laughing. And, for a second, I felt bad about springing the question on him.

But he’d lied to me. My whole life. I’m sure he must have thought it was for the best—my mother clearly must have agreed—but still.

The deception hurt.

“You’ve never asked about this before. Why now? Maybe I should come see you.”

I stood straight, sensing disaster approaching. I hadn’t thought this through. He could still force me to come home, blow my cover here. Now more than ever I had to stay at the Cirque. That magic coin was here somewhere. Jules and Remy’s whispered conversations were proof. My mother might want me gone, but I wanted answers and I didn’t want her to die. And I wanted my future. As a magician.

Nan’s original suspicions about why I was here meant no one could find out I now wanted to know where the coin was too.

Dad and I coming clean with each other would have to wait. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve just been wondering. It’s nothing to worry about. Go finish your show. We’ll talk more soon.”

There was a long pause. A woman’s voice said, “Mr. Mitchell?” in the background. He ignored whoever it was.

“Moira, I love you. If I could give your mother to you, I would. I would give you anything.”

It was the way he said it that made a sudden anger spike within me. He said it like it was true.

“I know, Dad. Love you.”

I sank to the bed and sat in the near dark for a few minutes, hoping for a bright idea to present itself that would allow me to look for the coin without betraying the Garcias or the Maronis.

My mother had abandoned me to keep me safe. But she seemed convinced I was as far from that as possible here.

Too bad. I wasn’t leaving.

eighteen

The flash of a metaphorical lightbulb overhead didn’t come.

Eventually, I had to get up and make my way back through the cabin to the door. I remembered the break-in at just that moment. The back of my neck tingled, like it could sense that someone might be watching me, maybe even my mother’s mysterious
he
, waiting right now in the darkness.

I carefully locked the door behind me, then I turned and saw a security guard sweeping a flashlight across the grass.

Those must have been the eyes I’d felt watching me. Right. I had no reason to become completely paranoid. Or every reason?

I crossed the grass toward the main tent and its riotous noise as quickly as I could without running. No matter what was going on with me, I still wanted to be a good friend to Dita.

When I reached the big top’s backstage entrance, some of the clowns were hanging out in a cluster. As usual, one was smoking a cigar that reeked.

“There you are,” he said. “Remy said to tell you that you’re late and Dita won’t come out until you get here.”

Some friend you are, Moira.

“Thanks,” I said, and ducked inside the flap.

Backstage was packed with glittering performers, off work but still hanging out. The music that went along with the Maronis’ wire act wafted through from the main tent. I scanned for the red-and-black costumes of the Garcias and spotted them in the corner. I wound through the crowd toward them. Remy spotted me.

“Finally,” he said. “Dita, she’s here. You can come out now!”

“Send her inside,” Dita’s voice called from within a makeshift dressing room, curtain strung across its opening.

Their mother stood beside a makeup table nearby, frowning at me, or possibly at Dita. Novio nodded to me from his position next to the scantily clad blondes who performed with them.

I took the curtain and held it tight so no one could see inside, and then I was behind it.

“Oh my God!”
I exclaimed, turning and getting a look at her.

“What?” Dita pulled at the edge of her sleeves and shifted from foot to foot in a pair of sequined black slippers. “Is it terrible? I have time to change back into the usual one.”

“Don’t even consider it,” I said. And I didn’t have to pretend anything.

Her short hair was slicked back tonight, and she’d lined her eyes with heavy black liner. Her lips were painted a neutral pink. The effect was dramatic on its own.

But the costume was the star. The formfitting material covering her legs was cut like her brothers’ costumes. But where the boys’ necklines plunged to deep Vs that left their chests exposed, the costumer had given Dita a faux vest with a modest V at the top. Flat black sequins outlined the red that shaped the vest. It could have looked goofy—maybe should have—but it didn’t. It was striking. Despite the snug fit, there was nothing overtly sexed-up about the costume, unlike her previous one. A singular look for a singular person.

“You look like a dapper daredevil,” I told her. At her uncertain shifting, I said, “That’s a good thing. It suits you. You look
great
. The dapperest daredevil in history.”

In the distance, the music for the Maronis cut out and applause swelled. Thurston’s voice boomed, the words indistinct from this vantage point. Outside the curtain, Remy said, “It’s time, Dita. Come on.”

“Everyone’s going to love it,” I said. “You do, don’t you?”

That grin from earlier, joy included, showed up. “I do.”

“And do you feel less afraid?”

Her grin left. But she said, “I think I will.”

“Go on, then. Knock them dead. Ready?” I grabbed the curtain so she could make an entrance and jerked it to one side. She took a breath and then launched herself out of the dressing room to join her brothers.

“Looking good, sis,” I heard Remy tell her, and she glanced over her shoulder one more time, grin still in place.

They jogged toward the main entrance to the ring.

Their mother stood where she had this whole time, her arms still crossed. “This was your idea?” she asked me.

“She looks amazing, doesn’t she?” I said, and then got out of there.

I scurried to find a place to watch their act, hoping the costume change would pay off in boosting Dita’s confidence level tonight yet still feeling overwhelmed by the entire evening. Jules was standing by the side entrance, where there was a small curtain to conceal performers while allowing them a view of the ring. The clowns from outside were there too.

“I love the costume,” she said. “I gave her the slippers. I wasn’t sure they’d go. But she’s wearing them.”

“They look great.”

Jules nodded, biting her lip, and we turned to watch the performance. The Garcias and the twins preened on their platform perches, and Novio was already swinging back and forth. Jules looked as nervous as me, waiting to see if Dita would make her somersaults and catch this time. She hadn’t yet, not since the season began. Every night had been off.

I’d even stopped staying to watch, sensing that Dita would rather I
not
see her fail over and over again.

The twins went first, as Thurston did his usual spiel about the act and Goddesses of Beauty and Love Brothers—apparently the Garcias’ infamous granddad had been the one who came up with this, even going so far as to have their mother name the siblings Romeo, Casanova, and . . .

“And now, the chief Goddess of Beauty herself, lovely Aphrodite,” Thurston said, and the band played Dita’s sensuous theme music. She stood on the platform, straight and tall in her new costume.

And suddenly I couldn’t stop thinking about the magic coin. Where had their grandfather gotten it, if it used to belong to the Praestigae?

Dita’s head went down for a second, like she was losing her nerve, and Jules grabbed my arm. “Ouch,” I said, and her grip loosened, but she held on.

Novio swung back and forth, watching the platform. Remy said something to Dita. And, finally, as we watched—as everyone watched—she lifted her arms and ably accepted the swing flung her way, and then she was off the platform and hurtling through space.

She swung back and forth, like an extension of the trapeze itself, moving smoothly, quickly. Easily.

“She’s going to do it,” Jules said, almost squealing in my ear.

I hoped as hard as I could she was right.
Come on, Dita. Come on. You got this.

Above us, high in the air, Dita released the swing and spun into a tight ball for her somersaults—one, two, three of them! She came out cleanly, as if it was as easy for her as breathing, and grabbed her brother’s wrists.

Novio’s teeth flashed above us. So did hers. They were both grinning big enough to fill the tent.

“Have you ever seen anything more lovely?” Thurston boomed, happiness in his voice. “And wait, what’s this? A repeat performance for us? How will we resist her charms?”

Because instead of calling it a night and spinning down into the net, Dita went back to the platform and repeated the entire sequence of events. In fact, she did still another triple somersault after that before she finally ceded the air to Remy and his final quad—which he made too.

Somehow, though, when Jules raced out to join them and they took their bows, I knew all of the Cirque people gathered around the side curtain were cheering for Dita.

All except her mother. She should have been pleased. But when I looked over and saw her greeting her kids, her lips were pulled tight.

“You were incredible!” I said to Dita as soon as she was close.

She was sparkling, laughing, breathing hard. Remy slapped her shoulder. “Three triples,” he said, like he was dumbfounded by it.

“Says the boy who does a quad every night,” Dita said. But I could tell she was proud of herself.

Jules rushed in then. “Congratulations! New costume
and
back in fine form.” Remy slid a look at Jules, but she just beamed back at him. Her arm was looped around Dita’s shoulders.

“Thanks for the lucky slippers, Jules,” Dita said, and I thought I saw her smile falter briefly.

“You’re supposed to be a Goddess of Beauty,” said a woman’s voice, cutting through the celebration like a sharp knife. We all backed away from it, which had the effect of ceding the floor to Maria Garcia. “You look like a boy.”

My mouth fell open. But not for long. Fury blazed up, and I searched for the words to defend Dita, her mother be damned.

Dita didn’t need me to come to her rescue, though. “No,” she said, the word heavy, like it made her sad to have to say it. “I look like myself. I
feel
like myself. For the first time in months. I’m not that little girl who will do whatever you say anymore. I can’t.”

Novio stepped up beside her, their shoulders touching, and Remy followed suit. He stood on her other side. A united front.

“You don’t have to,” Novio said. And then to his mom, “She looks great and she performed at the top of her game tonight. You can’t ask for more than that. And if you do, you sound like Granddad.”

That seemed to steal all the air right out of Maria Garcia’s lungs. She looked chastened, even guilty. The tightness in her mouth curved in on itself, her entire body contracting. “You are right. I do sound like him.” She swallowed. “I’m proud of you, my beautiful Dita. Ignore me. I forget sometimes that we don’t have to please him anymore.”

“We never did,” Dita said.

But none of them seemed to believe that.

This Roman Garcia must have been some piece of work. Dez was up on all the circus gossip; I hoped maybe he could give me some intel. But that was for later.

I caught Dita’s eye. “We did it.”

“Partners in crime,” she said.

And she had managed her act—unlike me—without almost drowning. A definite win.

Thurston walked out of the ring, everyone making a path for him. He came straight to us. “Well done tonight, everyone,” he said, and his eyes settled on me. “I heard a story during intermission from Dez. You’ll do that act every night before Raleigh’s performances?”

Was he really asking me if I would open for Raleigh?

My mother had said I shouldn’t do escapes anymore, not until I could control my magic . . .

But I couldn’t turn this down. This was my dream, what I’d come here for. My future in the spotlight.

“Yes,” Dita said, her laughter back, “she’d love to.”

Thurston’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you sure that you’re up for it?”

“Yes, I’d love to,” I echoed, wishing I sounded more enthusiastic.

“Then it’s settled.”

He left us, bestowing one final beam on Dita.

Of course, it was possible I’d turn air into burning sand next time. And I’d forgotten to ask whether anyone had checked with Raleigh about this new development.

But I wouldn’t spoil our victory celebration by bringing up all the things that could still go wrong, not when they were secrets I had to keep. I’d just obsess over them instead.