Girl in the Shadows (25 page)

thirty-five

I picked at my waffle the next morning at the breakfast mess.

Dita had her practice clothes on. The Garcias were rehearsing a new bit this morning. And I was going to summon all my magic to find this coin.

Dez and I had been too rattled to do much more than report back on our conversations the night before. He’d been spooked by what a good mood the Rex was in. I had told Dez everything except the part about holding his life in my hands.

“Hey, I’ve been wondering,” Dita said, “is something wrong?”

You could say that.
“No, why?”

“You’re barely eating, and you’ve been really quiet lately. Is it something to do with Brandon?”

He’d gotten released from the medical bus, and he was now on strong painkillers and staying in a much better spot, which he called “a pity upgrade.” He called it that to Dez, at least. He more or less ignored me.

“Or Dez?” she asked.

“It’s a lot of things,” I said. “Nothing I can really talk about. What about you?”

Dita glanced around us, as if we were in danger of being overheard. We weren’t.

“I’ve been seeing someone.”

I hadn’t expected that. “Who?”

She gave a wry smile and tapped her fingers nervously on the tabletop. “Not like that—a therapist. For a few weeks now. Thurston set it up. Over Skype.” She was quiet, then she said, “It’s helping, with the Sam stuff and the rest. He gave me something, and it’s really been good, I think. Although I felt a little fuzzy for the first week. Now I . . . I only imagine screwing up in the air every few days.”

“That’s great,” I said, and meant it. “I’m glad you felt like you could tell me.”

I also felt like dirt, because she shouldn’t trust me.

Remy and the blonde twin flyers who were also in their act were approaching, so I gave a warning. “Your rehearsal partners are here.”

“Thanks,” she said. “You can tell me, whatever is bothering you. I just want you to know that.”

Oh, but I can’t.

“Thanks back. Now go spin around really fast in the air.”

She laughed and got up. I did the same, dumping my barely touched waffle on the way out.

I made my way to Dez’s compartment, which was where we’d set to meet this morning. He was waiting, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching for me. “Hi there,” he said, and gave me a lingering kiss. “Are you sure about doing this?”

“Once we have the coin, we have something they want.”

“You are something he wants.”

“Well, he can’t have me.” I hesitated. “Do you think my mother’s telling the truth about her magic being almost gone?”

What he’d said about her acting differently and not usually being a victim of the Rex’s violence had stuck with me. I had a feeling there was more to her story than what she’d confessed to me so far. But I also felt guilty for doubting her, and for wondering how much she was capable of manipulating me.

“I don’t know. They would never admit she’s running low to anyone. You were the first I’d heard it from. They said they wanted the coin back because it was ours, would make us powerful and lucky again.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know. If she runs out, she dies.” Yet she’d been using magic to change her appearance the other night. She said casting illusions used less magic than transformations did, but based on the times I’d seen her at shows and at that house in El Paso, she did it constantly.

“There’s no way you would run out,” Dez said, “is there?”

“I don’t think so. Not soon,” I said, though I had no idea. According to my mother, what I was about to do took a lot of magic, more than she had left. But better for him not to worry about that. I waved him aside. “Move over.”

After he did, I sat down cross-legged on his bed.

“Do you need anything?” he asked.

“Just magic.” I closed my eyes and did as my mother had said.

I called to my magic, and when it came, the feeling of being in a fixed place in the universe faded. The bed I sat on might as well have vanished. I pictured the magic filling me up, almost running over the edges of the cup, and when it felt like it was bigger than me, like I was a speck in its ocean and it would protect me from everything, taking me anywhere I needed to go along its currents, I sent out my request . . .

And the other magic answered, like a distant voice responding to my question. Like it was pulling me in toward it, so I could hear it better.

The thing is, I recognized it. It wasn’t mine, but I’d felt it before.

That first day in the tent, that sensation of something pulling me up toward the top of the tent.

This had the same . . . texture. A taste, almost.

I stood up. “This way.”

I led us across the grounds, floating on the fullness of my magic, toward that answering call.

When we turned away from the big top, I frowned. But the call was strong, and I followed it into the maze of performers’ homes. We wound through trailers until we were at the familiar silver Airstream, the mural of Remy and Dita on the side.

“Seriously?” Dez asked. “It’s been here the whole time?”

I didn’t bother to shush him. The call from inside was too forceful. I unlocked the door and went straight back to . . . the room Dita and I shared. The call reverberated through me so loud that it took a moment to pinpoint the location.

I went to the closet and brushed my hands across Dita’s suits. Then I knelt and reached toward the very back. There was a rough carpet on the floor, and I tugged up the edge and felt for the point that was calling to me.

My hand closed around a small piece of metal, and the jolt of power nearly made me black out. I scrambled back and closed my eyes, curling my fingers around the coin tight. I wanted to hold on forever. My magic didn’t want to let it go.

“Moira, are you okay?”

The fear in Dez’s voice reached me.

With effort, I forced my fingers open and dropped the coin onto the floor. Then I pushed my magic back down inside me, silencing the call. It didn’t want to go, and for a moment, I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it. That this time it would consume me.

Finally, it ebbed.

I opened my eyes.

Dez was obviously freaking out, hovering over me.

“I think I’m all right.” My voice sounded strange to my ears.

“That was insanely scary,” he said.

He pointed at the coin on the bare space of floor between the closet and Dita’s bed where I’d dropped it. “So that’s it. It was right next to you all along.”

“I don’t think it was here all along,” I said. “Dita hates it.”

I remembered Jules and Remy’s whispered conversations, and then Jules showing up with that gift for Dita. Those slippers. The coin seemed to whisper
yes to me.

“They planted it on Dita. She must have figured it out.”

“Do you think she’ll notice it’s gone?”

I considered. My fingers itched to grab the coin again. “I doubt she’s even looked at it since she put it there. We should just be glad she didn’t know how to destroy it.”

Dez leaned over to get a better look at it. I did too, though it felt dangerous, like tempting fate.

Closer, I could make out the shape of a head engraved on it, and Roman numerals. An ancient Roman coin from the Circus Maximus—valuable even without a drop of magic in it.

The front door opened, and Dez and I both jolted.

“Moira?” Dita called out. “You here?”

Using my T-shirt to keep my skin from making contact with the metal, I grabbed the coin and jammed it in my pocket. I didn’t want to touch it again
because
of how badly I wanted to.

Dez jerked me over onto my bed, mussed my hair and put his arms around me.

Dita appeared in the doorway and immediately looked up at the ceiling and turned around. “Oh God, guys, I’m sorry. I—”

“No,” I said, sitting up. “We shouldn’t . . . We didn’t mean to . . .”

I still felt strange. The presence of the coin in my pocket was impossible to ignore.

Dez jumped in. “What I think Moira’s trying to say is we accidentally got carried away. Sorry.”

“It’s your place too,” Dita said weakly, disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.

When she was gone, I looked at Dez. “I don’t want this near me any longer than it has to be.”

The dry, dramatic desert landscape we drove through from Albuquerque to Phoenix was a perfect mirror for my internal state, particularly the way it was punctuated by giant mountains and deep canyons. My nerves over what would happen when Dad arrived—and everything else—made me feel just as jagged around the edges.

I hadn’t kept the coin on me. I’d put it back where it was, under the carpet.

And I checked daily to make sure it was still there.

It was.

Tonight I did have it with me as I paced through the backstage of my tent. I’d stashed it in a carrying case with a few other coins in my pocket. It felt less dangerous without my magic actively calling to it, but not by a lot.

Dad would be here any minute now.

Dez pulled aside the tent flaps and entered. He’d dressed up in his suit for my dad.

“You’re giving me a weird look,” he said. “But it’s okay, because I still dig the mask.”

“I’m too nervous for flirting,” I said.

He grinned, and it was almost like our old normal. But not quite. We were both tense. This was a big night.

For me in more ways than one.

“Your dad can’t deny what’s in front of his eyes,” he said. “You’re going to kill it.”

So he’d sensed I was as nervous about finally performing in front of Dad as I was about the things my rational side knew should be much more important. It was probably ridiculous, but a fact was a fact.

“Let’s hope. You still feel good about the plan?” I asked.

“Yeah, I do. It gives us leverage, like you said.”

“As long as he’ll take it.”

I rested my forehead against Dez’s, and we stood there, taking comfort in each other’s presence.

I didn’t want to keep the coin, but we weren’t quite ready to hand it over to the Rex and Regina yet either. And although I thought my mother’s life was in danger, there was a chance she was lying.

If the Rex had given Dez and me through the end of the season, he—and Mom, since she hadn’t protested—must have believed she could make it until then. So we’d agreed that I would try to convince Dad to take the magic coin with him tonight when he left, and stash it with the rest of his treasures in one of his fortresslike warehouses. We could retrieve it when we got to Vegas.

Buying us time, a precious commodity, so we could try, try, try to come up with a way out of this life-wrecking mess.

Raleigh alerted us to his presence with a cough as he breezed in through the tent flap. “Love what you’ve done with the place, Pixie.”

My mouth dropped open. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

So things had been fractured between us when he left. I still bounded over and hugged him. I couldn’t help it. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise. And I mean that.” Raleigh was dressed in navy pants and a gray shirt open at the collar, casual for him when I was so used to seeing him in a tux and tails.

“I get it. And Thurston shouldn’t have fired you,” I told him. “Dad’s with you?”

“Front and center.”

I gave Raleigh a little push on the shoulder. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Why’s that bad?” Dez asked. He seemed slightly awkward about my collegial friendship with Raleigh—which I realized, yes, was definitely a thing. Working together this summer had made us into equals.

“Because Dad will be close enough to spot even the tiniest flub or mistake.”

“Oh,” Raleigh said, shrugging and playing innocent. “Just don’t make any flubs, then.”

“I’ll do my best.” An echo of what I’d told the Rex.

“See you out there,” he said, ducking back out the tent flap.

I checked my reflection to make sure I was good—red lipstick, mask, costume arranged as it should be.

“Hey,” Dez said, “stop fidgeting. You look like what you are: an amazing magician. You’ll knock your dad dead.” He held up his hand. “Not literally.”

“Ha ha.” Our eyes met. “I guess we should get out there.”

“I guess we should.”

I took a step closer to him, because the curtain was a few feet behind him. He took one toward me . . . and I almost let us collide. But at the last second I reached out and touched his arm and turned him around.

“My lipstick,” I murmured when we were at the curtain.

“Until later,” he said.

I straightened my shoulders. At least he’d taken my mind off my father. Somewhat.

Here goes everything.

thirty-six

Walking out onstage should have been familiar at this point, as natural as palming a card or a coin. Instead, this could have been the first time I’d ever stood in front of so many people. All those eyes landed on me like a blow.

No mystery why. Dad’s eyes were among them.

I looked down into the crowd, my vision swimming slightly, and saw Dad next to Raleigh in the front row. Thurston, beaming up at me, was on his other side. And beside Thurston . . . Brandon. His arm in a cast all the way to the elbow to help immobilize his hand more.

It was the first time I’d seen him out and about since the punishment.

My attention went back to Dad, the audience I’d wanted for so long. Dad’s aesthetics and mine were different, but I hugely admired his skill. He was one of my heroes.

I’d always imagined him being impressed the first time he saw me onstage. The expression he actually wore was familiar from the few times I’d seen it, including that last night at the theater, and
impressed
wasn’t the word for it. It was disapproval. The memory of standing on his stage, of him dismissing me, came back with a force I wasn’t prepared for.

Followed by flashes of my disastrous audition for the Cirque, the way my magic had flooded through me—

“All good?” Dez whispered.

This was my chance. Here and now.

I took a deep breath and forced a bow. “Welcome to my show. I’m the Miraculous Moira.”

I caught my hand gravitating to the pocket with the coin case in it.

No,
I told myself.
Forget you have that. It’ll only make things worse.

But wasn’t the coin supposed to bring good luck?

The power in it had felt like too much the day we’d found it. I probably should have removed it before I went on.

Too late.

Dez continued across the stage, to the other side of the glass. We were doing the bullet catch first, to mix things up. “This is my lovely assistant, Desmond. Dez, for short,” I continued, still feeling somehow disconnected from everything around me.

I gestured to Dez, and he propped one leg up in a show-off showgirl way, earning a laugh. It rang in my ears. Brandon, in the front row, smirked.

Get it together, Moira.

This was still the future I wanted, doing magic. “Tonight, there’s a very special guest in the crowd. I’ll bet some of you have recognized him.”

There were whispers. Of course they had. Dad was the kind of famous that came with occasional TV specials, bit parts in movies, and his own packed houses in his permanent theater. “Yes, this is
the
Mysterious Mitchell, Master Magician.” There was a round of applause. He put on a passive half-smile and nodded to accept it, holding up a hand to wave it off.

“Here’s a secret: he’s my dad. So I’m going to try to make this show tonight extra-special for him.”

I strolled back and forth, wishing to feel less jumpy. More solid and in control. “I thought tonight we’d start with the bullet catch—I mean, what’s the point of escaping a coffin first? If I can’t survive being shot at, then I’ll just have to do it later anyway.” I winked.

The crowd laughed again. More ringing in my ears. Dad didn’t even crack a smile.

“Dez, can you confirm that the glass is real and prepare the firearm?”

Dez tapped the glass plate at the center of the stage in several places and began to check the gun. I started my patter about Lulu Hurst and Annie Abbott, finally semi-hitting my stride. The crowd was with me, loving it all. I kept catching them craning their necks to get a look at Dad down front.

My dad remained absolutely unreadable throughout the lead-up. But Raleigh gave me an approving nod when I looked at him. Brandon continued to smirk, and Thurston to beam.

I thought about inviting Dad up to mark the bullet, but somehow inviting my mother had seemed less risky. I decided to go with a nice round-faced gentleman from the front row. Dez loaded the wax bullet, and I went over to my side of the stage.

“And now, can I have absolute silence in the crowd? And please stay in your seats, for your own safety.”

I donned my goggles and mouth guard, and stood facing Dez, who leveled the gun at me. I called my magic and conjured the mark onto the bullet, feeling it heat inside my cheek as I transformed it. To try to calm my nerves, I envisioned the rest of the trick, the wax bullet leaving the gun and shattering the glass, the audience believing the bullet was traveling toward me, then their approving applause after I revealed the marked one in my mouth. Dad would have to be impressed.

Only then did I notice there was too much heat within me for what had become a simple trick.

The coin.

Heady power rushed through me, a roaring river of it. The flood of magic seemed to consume my own magic, threatening to consume me. It wanted something from me . . .

I staggered a step back, out of position.

The
crack!
of the gun sounded.

A hail of bullets might as well have been traveling toward me, like I was Addie Herrmann, holding out her hands for six at a time. I felt strong enough to catch them all.

Oh no.
I shouldn’t have thought that.

The glass exploded out, no longer glass but a score of metal shards, all flying fast toward me. The audience gasped. There were screams.

Please, please, stop.

I fought the flood of power and dove flat. My body still surged with the coin’s fiery magic.

“What’s happening?” I heard someone call, and I looked above me to see bullets hanging in the air across the stage, all around me.

I pictured them dropping. Harmless.

And they did, with a metallic clattering as they hit the stage.

One fell right beside my face, and I saw it was marked with the initials of the audience member, just like the one in my own mouth would be.

I spat out my mouth guard and the bullet in my cheek. The coin had made my passing desires into reality.

I felt powerful, dangerous, unstoppable. Like I should come with a warning:
Don’t touch.

“Moira?” My dad’s voice from the crowd.

Echoed by Dez’s. “Moira, that was . . .”

He was beside me.

You have to get up,
I told myself.
You’re performing.
The crowd couldn’t know. They had to think it was an act.

I grabbed Dez’s arm and used it to leap to my feet. I flourished at the bullets littering the stage.

I almost tripped over a handful as I made my way to the front.

Dad was standing, gaping at me, knowing that trick was impossible. That it could not have been a trick.

“Sir,” I said to my volunteer, voice breathy, “can you confirm these bullets bear your marking?”

The trembling man came close enough to pick one up and nodded in amazement. “Yes. Yes, they do. How’d you do that?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets. I am the Miraculous Moira.”

The crowd rose to its feet, applauding as loudly as I’d ever heard. They called, whooping and cheering. Thurston gave me a thumbs-up. Raleigh clapped, frowning. Brandon alone didn’t bother to join in.

I wanted to leave the tent, but of course I had to stick around. My dad, on the other hand, did not. And how did he take the news that my magic had shown up? He strode over to the side aisle and out of the tent without a backward glance.

I took a bow and signed autographs, knowing I’d find him afterward.

He would take this coin. He had to.

If the Rex and Regina got their hands on it, there would be no stopping them.

Dez had stayed longer than he usually did, not running off to do his own act. He was obviously rattled by what had happened out there, and when the last fan had cleared out, he steered me backstage and into one of the dressing room chairs.

I didn’t have to go looking for Dad. He was waiting there, ready to pounce. We’d never been in a situation remotely like this, which made it far harder for me to predict what he’d do.

The first thing he did was scowl at Dez’s hand on my arm. “I want to talk to you. Just you.”

“Give us a second,” I said to him.

“You all right?” Dez asked me, low. “You need me to stay? That was—”

“The coin,” I whispered. “We can’t keep it here. You go on, do your show.”

“You’re sure?” He brushed a strand of hair back from the side of my face, like he needed to touch me to reassure himself I was still there. “That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Go. I’m fine.” I still felt electric, the coin in my pocket. “I need to talk to my dad.”

Dez pressed a kiss to my forehead. Then he turned and held out his hand for Dad to shake. “Excuse me, sir?”

I had to admit, his courage in saying boo to Dad right now floored me a little. No way I’d have steered into this familial squall by choice. Dad was in his full leather-panted, poofy-shirted casual-look (for him) glory. Plus, he was upset.

“I already said I’d like to have a private conversation with my daughter.”

Dez didn’t budge. “I just wanted to say that she’s incredible. Fearless. You should be very proud of her. Listen to her. Help her.”

Dad’s scowl grew more troubled than mad, at least.

“Thanks, Dez,” I said. “See you for the next show.”

Dez slipped out the side of the tent.

My father blinked after him, then turned back to me once we were alone. He looked at me for a long moment, visibly searching for words.

“Yes, I know about my magic,” I said. “That’s what you saw out there. It started when I got here.” I removed the coin case from my pocket and shook out the coin I wanted him to take. When my palm came into contact with it, I felt like I could do anything. That there were no limits to my magic.

So I set it carefully down on the edge of the dressing table.

I nodded toward it. “That brought it out. My mother said you guys figured I’d never come into contact with anyone or anything magic. You figured wrong.”

He pulled over the other chair and sank into it across from me.

“Since you told me nothing about this, I was completely unprepared. I thought I was going crazy. The first time happened in Florida while I was auditioning. The coin was there, and so, boom, magic.”

“You’ve met your mother,” he said.

“Yes, and her husband, the Rex. I know all about the Praestigae, and they know all about me.”

Dad bolted up from the chair, reaching for me. “We have to get you out of here. Right now.”

“Dad, sit down. There’s more.”

He pulled at my arm. “You can’t stay here, not if they know where you are. Your mother was very clear that they could never find out about you.”

I gently lifted his hand away. “The Praestigae know I exist and that I have magic now. Nothing is going to be easy. Sit. Please? I want an explanation from you, and I have a favor to ask.”

I didn’t feel nearly as calm as I sounded. I was afraid he’d refuse my request. And, frankly, afraid I would never be able to trust him again.

His eyes swung around the small backstage area, as if we’d be attacked at any moment. They
could
show up again, the uninvited king and queen. I didn’t think they would, though. Not so soon.

“Sit,” I told him, more firmly.

Finally, he swung back into the chair, with clear reluctance. “You have to understand, sweetheart. I hoped the day your magic woke up would never come.”

“
You
raised me to believe in science, in probability, to believe that the supernatural was bullshit that only fakers and con men would invoke. You had to expect I’d find out.”

“I love you.” His voice took on a pleading note. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with it, to take the risk. Your mother told me there was so little magic left in the world that the probability was good you’d never have to know.”

“It was inside me, waiting.” My heart seemed to thump in time with my words. I forced myself not to look at the coin sitting on the dresser top between us. I longed to touch it again. To feel that rush. That power. “I
deserved
to know.”

“You don’t understand. It’s not safe for anyone to know. At home, I can protect you.”

I felt sorry for everything then, for telling him this way. We were so far past his being able to protect me. “It’s not just me. Dez is in trouble too.”

He shook his head dismissively. “That’s not my problem.”

“But it’s mine. Dad, I . . . I love him. And I won’t leave him to them. I’m going to see this through.”

He went still. “See what through?”

I pointed at the coin on the edge of the dresser. “Raleigh told you about this—it’s special to the Praestigae. The Rex gave Dez and me until the end of the season to recover it. They don’t know we found it. It’s too dangerous for me to keep here. You saw what happened tonight . . . That was the coin’s magic at work.”

Dad reached out and picked it up. He turned it over in his fingers. “If we give it to them—”

“We need time, to figure out how to get them to leave us alone. They want this, so it’ll be like an insurance policy.” I reached over and put my hand over his.

The coin called to me from within his hand,
I’m yours.