Girl in the Shadows (10 page)

Novio left the room to go somewhere. Back up front, I guessed. Jules and Dita and Remy exchanged a glance, and Remy went after him. Then Dita spoke. “The coin, the one you said Nan mentioned to you . . . it was our grandfather’s. Mine and Remy’s and Novio’s. He believed it was our family’s good luck charm.”

Right. Nan had said as much.

Jules’s frown deepened. “Why would Nan mention that to
you
?”

“Just in passing,” I said. “Keep explaining.”

“Well,” Dita said, pitching her voice low, “Novio was looking for it last year. He thought, uh, Nan Maroni had it.” Her voice had gotten shaky, but she stopped and collected herself. “There were break-ins, worse things . . . But he was only doing what Granddad convinced him to do.”

“Is this coin real? Where is it?”

“It’s gone,” Jules said quickly.

I didn’t believe her, but it seemed I’d been caught in cross fire that wasn’t aimed at me. Still, Nan had thought I might be here for the coin, so it was a good thing I had an alibi for tonight.

Remy returned. “They went through all of our rooms, and the bathroom too. The medicine cabinet stuff is sitting on the sink. Neatly.”

“We better go report this to Thurston,” Jules said. “He’s always in his office after our last show.”

We headed out, Dita carefully locking the door behind us. As we got closer to Thurston’s trailer, it became clear that every light inside was on, the door wide open.

“That’s weird,” Remy said, which crossed out the possibility that this was normal.

“Nan?” Jules said.

The elegant older lady, the only person who knew my secret, was coming toward us from the opposite direction. Jules’s parents were with her. They weren’t headed for us, I realized, but were also on the way to Thurston’s trailer.

“What are you guys doing here?” Jules asked.

Nan nodded to me, a brief acknowledgment. Jules’s tall blonde mother answered in a vaguely Russian-infused accent: “Someone has been in our house while we were out tonight.”

“Theirs too,” Jules said.

Voices reached us from inside the trailer where we’d come to report the odd crime, now turning into an odd crime spree. Even though nothing noticeable had been taken, the would-be thievery made the night feel serious. In silent agreement, we crossed to the open door and entered. The Garcia mother, the one who’d considered me in the backstage tent, was inside with a man I assumed to be her husband.

“What are you doing here?” Dita asked them as we all piled in.

Books and posters lay on the coffee table in the living room, piled high but neatly stacked. The kitchen’s cabinet doors hung open. The larger-than-normal interior of the trailer was not like it had been earlier, to say the least.

Thurston stood in the center of it all, and his eyes widened in surprise at our arrival. “You were hit too?” he asked, indicating the tidy disarray.

Dita nodded.

The Garcia mother spoke up. “The same happened in our home.”

Jules’s mom chimed in, “And ours too.”

I moved around Thurston toward the desk to help make room for everyone in what had become close quarters. But then I spotted a piece of paper on the corner of the desk that wasn’t stacked neatly like the others there.

A sheet of notebook paper, torn out, a ragged edge showing. It was folded in half. “What’s this?”

“No clue,” Thurston said.

I moved closer and picked it up. The message was brief. I shivered again, with a sense of deep wrongness.

“It’s a note,” I said.

“What does it say?” Jules’s mom asked.

It said:

I want the coin too.

But before I could read it aloud, a crow with white plumage on its breast flew in through the door.

eleven

Caliban’s dramatic entrance resulted in shrieks—from those who apparently either didn’t recognize him or hadn’t heard there was a pet bird in residence with the show’s magician.

“It’s okay!” I called out before they could swat him or something worse.

His eerie appearance made me expect him to grab the mysterious note and wing away into the evening. Instead, Caliban flew straight to Dita and grabbed a piece of genie-pink cotton candy stuck to the shirt she’d pulled on over her costume.

Raleigh bounded through the door before anyone figured out what to do about the bird other than look panicky and raise their hands to ward it off.

“Caliban,” Raleigh said, stern. He held out his arm. The bird flapped over and settled there.

Color came up in Raleigh’s cheeks as all of us in the room gaped at him. “Sorry about that, everyone. He flew away from me.”

We were all quiet for a moment, and then Dita burst out laughing.

There was a stunned moment of silence before Thurston joined her. When everyone—myself included—looked at them like they were crazy, Thurston raised a hand and said, “What a night.”

“This is serious,” the Garcia mother said. “Someone has targeted all of us. Why?”

Dita and Thurston managed to pull in their laughter.

I still had the piece of paper with the ominous message in my hand. “The note says ‘I want the coin too,’” I said, and held it up so they could see.

Any remnant of laughter vanished. Novio blanched and lowered onto the couch. His mother put her hand on his arm, sitting down beside him.

Nan had been quiet so far, but she spoke up now. “You went to that note quickly.”

I bristled. “Whoever left this went through my things too. I’ve been working all night, and I went to the show after.”

Thurston looked between us. “Why would you accuse Moira? You vouched for her.”

Nan was taken aback. She’d clearly spoken before she thought it through. “Magicians are the most superstitious people I’ve ever met. I had to be sure she wasn’t interested in it. Besides, Jules, didn’t you tell me Roman’s coin is gone?”

Remy and Jules avoided looking at each other, and I was probably the only one who noticed it. Jules’s parents watched her reaction.

“We got rid of it,” she said.

“Together,” Remy said. “It’s gone.”

Thurston came over to me and took the note, peering down at it.

“They wanted you to know,” I said.

“What?” Thurston’s forehead creased.

“That’s why they went through all your trailers, left the note. They couldn’t have expected to find it, not really—a coin’s so small. How could they unless they knew right where to look or got lucky? No, it’s misdirection. They wanted you to know—whoever they are—that they don’t believe it’s gone. Probably hoping you’ll try to move it or give something away in your reaction.”

Remy reached down for Jules’s hand, but neither of them spoke.

“You seem to have an awful lot of theories,” Nan said.

“She might be right. I’ve heard some things,” Raleigh said, bird still on his arm.

“You have,” Thurston said, flat. “And were your things disturbed?”

“No,” Raleigh said.

“Then what have you heard?” Thurston prompted.

Raleigh answered without hesitation. “There are rumors, whispers among some of the crew, about Roman Garcia. Rumors that he had a magic coin, very old. A coin that could make the bearer successful beyond their wildest dreams, give them the best luck in the world. That it was lost, but now might be found, as the saying goes. Do you think someone believes the stories? Crazy, right?”

“Crazy,” Nan said. “There
was
an old coin. But these two say they got rid of it.”

She said it with a hint of challenge to Raleigh, like she thought he might dispute that.

“I don’t believe in magic, ma’am,” he said instead.

I looked at the floor.

“Thank you, Raleigh,” Thurston said, the CEO part of him visible in how effectively it closed the door in Raleigh’s face. “Remember, discretion is the better part of employment.”

Raleigh didn’t protest. In fact, he retreated so quickly it was hard not to read his reaction as relief at the chance to escape. “Apologies for Caliban again,” he said to Dita as he left. “Evening.”

In his absence, the trailer felt airless and hot, thick with tension.

“Rumors and whispers,” Thurston said. “Misdirecting us. I don’t like it. Even if magic is real, it’s not the problem. The hunger to possess it is.”

Nan took a step closer to him. “If it’s real? Has your mind changed? I thought you believed all that talk was nonsense.”

Thurston waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing’s changed. Raleigh is right. But we also know that rumors of this coin have created problems before.”

“Tragedies, you mean,” said Jules’s mom, and her dad rubbed a hand across her back in comfort. “Lives taken.”

Thurston looked chastened at being called on his softer wording. I didn’t know the owner well enough to tell for sure when he was lying, but I wasn’t convinced his clarification disavowing magic had been entirely true.

Which made me worried about standing here in the room with him.

Nan’s caution in our private meeting returned, about how my magic could make other people dangerous to me. Now there were rumors and whispers and people who wanted some magic coin. It was a threat, plain and simple. To everyone in this room, but especially to me. Both because Nan wasn’t convinced I was as innocent as I was, and because whoever was behind this, what they really wanted was magic.

While the smart money was on staying quiet, I spoke up anyway. “I don’t understand, though. The note says they want the coin
too
. Does that imply that you want it, Mr. Meyer? Or someone else here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Remy interrupted, with a note of finality. “No one is going to get it. If that’s what they’re looking for, let them look.”

Jules had her arm tucked through his. “I don’t like it either. But he’s right, they won’t find anything.”

“Because there’s nothing to find?” Thurston asked.

The Garcias’ mother spoke now. “An old man’s folly is all there would be to find. We have moved past this now. Let us not speak of it anymore.”

Novio looked like he might throw up.

Thurston took in the room, everyone in various states of worry, and gave a thoughtful nod. “I’ll have extra security added, particularly to keep an eye on everyone’s trailers during performances. I won’t have the rumor mill disrupting our season and putting anyone at risk. Not this year.”

“Thank you,” Jules said.

The next words were Dita’s, soft. “Yes. I think I’m ready to call it a night.”

“I’ll come with you,” I said, more than ready to flee.

No one was very talkative the rest of the night or the next morning. The Flying Garcias had yet another rehearsal after breakfast, which Dita had just trudged off to, looking murderous and martyr-like at the same time.

The midway would be on again in just a few hours, then the first Cirque show, then dinner, then more midway, then more Cirque. Then on to our next stop. These days would fly. Suddenly twelve weeks seemed like no time at all.

I pulled the sliding door to our bedroom closed and turned the lock. Then I sat with the heart-shaped penny in my hand. The metal felt slightly warm to the touch, and my own heart beat harder.

I held on tight, and thought,
Change back.

I thought my palm was getting warmer, but I couldn’t be sure.

I focused all my attention on the piece of metal, willing it.
Change back.

Heat roared through me, and black stars pricked at the edges of my vision.

Somehow, I called on strength enough to unfold my fingers and fling the coin away.

And then there was nothing but darkness, and I fell back and back into its embrace.

I woke with Dita’s hand shaking my shoulder. “Moira? Why are you sleeping half on your suitcase?”

I was alive. I blinked at her.

My mouth was dry. I forced out a response anyway. “Just not used to circus hours, I guess. How, um, embarrassing.”

Dita held up the heart-shaped coin. “This was by the door. Is it yours?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“What is it? It’s like a gross little heart.”

“A . . . charm.”

She extended it to me. I trembled at the thought of touching it again, but I didn’t have a choice. She’d want to know why, and I was already being weird, passed out in the middle of our teeny room.

I took it, and nothing happened. There was a slight heat to it as I pushed it into my pocket.

This entire experiment gave me a new data point. It reminded me of the first time I tried to hold my breath longer than I was capable of it. That had told me to train harder. This told me never try to change anything back. Yay me for figuring out my first limit?

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Time for work for you,” she said. “If you’re up to it.”

“I am.” I forced myself to my feet, looking down at my phone. She was right. I was almost late, in fact.

“I’m going to dinner—you’re sure you don’t need anything?”

I shook my head, and she grabbed her wallet and headed back out.

I started to gather my sleight kit. My phone made the little whistle that indicated a new e-mail message. I knew I should get going, but I clicked the in-box. The words
Birth Certificate
appeared.

Not a moment too soon.

My heart
beat-beat-beat
as I clicked to open the message and then again as I pulled up the PDF copy of my birth certificate. It loaded huge, so I had to adjust the size and pull the image around to get a good look at it.

There was Dad’s name listed above
Father
, as it should have been (and a comfort to see, not that I’d considered the possibility that it wouldn’t be him). Then I zoomed in on the mother’s name.

Regina A. Ghost.

“That can’t be a real name,” I murmured.
Thanks for making it clear you didn’t intend to be found, Mom.

I shut the PDF and almost closed out my e-mail without seeing the new message.

The sender echoed that same weird name:
Regina
A. Ghost
.

Holding my breath instinctively, I clicked to open it.

My daughter,

You are not where your father believes you to be or I would have had this message delivered in person. I have kept watch over you, in case this day came, but you managed to leave without your father knowing where you were headed. I will say it plainly so you can make no mistake: You cannot keep looking for me. Stop trying to find me. You only risk endangering yourself. I chose that name then because it is how you should treat me—like a ghost. Or you’ll become one too.

My first communication from my mother, the loveliest assistant, part of the reason I’d ever wanted to do magic in the first place. And it was a brush-off.

Her message stung.

But I had made my decision on what to do. I wasn’t the type to follow orders that came without logic. Witness my being here.

I tapped back a reply to Regina A. Ghost:

Dear Ghost Mom Regina,

I’m sorry you don’t want to be found, because I really need to find you. Why would you keep watching if you didn’t want to connect in some way? Anyway, I’m already in danger. I blacked out trying to use magic today. I need answers from you. I need to understand how to control it. So I’ll tell you exactly where I am, I’m on the road with the Cirque American. Please get in touch for real.

I hesitated, deciding how to sign off.

Sincerely,

Your daughter (whether you like it or not)