A Criminal Magic (35 page)

TIGHT QUARTERS

ALEX

I'm in the Red Den's VIP lounge. My best guess is it's Wednesday afternoon, but I can't be entirely sure, because the only chances I get to see the clock above the performance space's double doors are when I need to use the john. Meals are brought in by the stagehands. Cigarette breaks are taken in here, or in the hall right outside. If we're too tired to brew another round of shine at the moment—you can power through a couple of rounds of brewing, but after a while you and your magic begin to fade—there are lounge chairs and sofas for taking short catnaps before raising up the sorcering flag once more.

Ral, Billy, Grace, Tommy, Rose, and me. Brew after brew, sorcerer's shine after shine, every trick of twelve ounces we brew to be poured into two hundred glass quart jugs that Joan will bind with her blood and trickery, so each jug can last forever on a shelf. Fifty gallons of a magical, wildly addictive drug that will mark the first shipment of shine ever to grace the black market, earmarked for Colletto's D Street gang to take and distribute up and down the coast and out to smugglers waiting on Magic Row. Fifty gallons that, if Gunn and Win—and Joan—have their way, will be the first of many shipments.

I've been trying to get Joan alone—I need to tell her
everything, including what she'll need to do to walk away from this mess, and the only alibi that might save her from prison, once my Unit charges in. But Gunn is keeping her on a short leash. The few times I've managed to sneak a spin around the Den, or climb the fire escape to her room, her lights were off, and she was gone. I've heard her voice, though, muffled behind Gunn's office door. It makes me sick, thinking about how for every quart we're complaining about filling, Joan's matching it in drops of blood.

“I'm starving,” Billy says, as he collapses into a chair in the corner of the room. They're the first words anyone has said for hours.

“Me too,” I say quietly.

Billy looks up. “They never brought in lunch, am I right?”

“No. What time is it?” I glance at Ral, the only one of us with a wristwatch.

“Jesus, the hours, the days, are starting to bleed together.” Ral looks at his watch. “It's nearly three. How long do they intend to keep us going like this?” I assume it's a rhetorical question, but Ral looks pointedly at me. “Have you spoken to her, Alex, since the night of the demonstration?”

We all know who
her
is. “I haven't.”

“I just wish I knew what was in store for us after this deal is done,” Ral says slowly. “I mean, is this our new reality, working around the clock in a tight, windowless room, dumping our magic into a bottle? It can't be, right?”

“Not what I signed up for,” Tommy grunts from the far corner.

“I don't know how much longer I can stand it. We're like prisoners in here.” Grace sits down in another one of the armchairs. She puts her hands over her eyes, like she's going to attempt a catnap in the middle of this conversation. I can't blame her.

“Wonder what the princess is doing right now,” Rose mutters, “but I'm sure it's not this.”

Grace separates her fingers like a peephole and shoots Rose a loaded glance.

Rose just gives her a little smirk. “You know I'm right, Mama Bear.”

“We wouldn't be in here if it wasn't for Joan,” Tommy piggybacks. “She's cursed us, in more ways than one. She has us doing grunt work while she plays partners with Gunn.”

And then I can't help but step in. “Enough. She's doing her part, same as you. You saw her on the stage.”

“Yeah, but how'd she get such a leading role, you understand what I'm saying?” Tommy says, as Rose laughs. He takes a step closer to me. “You two were thick as thieves, partners in your little circle, am I right?” he says. “Did you really not know about any of this?”

I keep my eyes on the newly conjured shine between my hands, will my pulse to slow. “I didn't.”

“She could have told us about the spell,” Rose presses, “it could have been a team effort. Instead she kept it to herself to cozy up to Gunn. She played all of us.” She raises one eyebrow at me. “Especially you, Alex.”

Tommy adds, “Yeah, she's all yours, until you find her in bed with Gunn.”

Like a reflex, my fingers tighten around my shine bottle and squeeze. The red, glistening shine explodes and splatters onto the folding table.

“Alex!” Ral rushes to my side to help clean up the mess. “Get some towels from the bar,” he tells Grace and Billy.

“Christ, I'm sorry.” I take off my sweater and throw it on the shine, which is now seeping into the carpet and soaking its fibers red.

Grace comes back quickly with some towels. She bends down next to me. “Pat it. There you go.”

No one says anything for a long time. We don't have the
luxury of sparring in a twelve-by-twelve room, with our gangster keepers down the hall, and we all know it. Especially me. I'm too close, there's too much at stake to lose control.

“Tommy, take a break, grab a smoke,” Ral says quietly. “Alex, why don't you get washed up, use my room. I'll cover for you if Win comes checking.”

I nod slowly in thanks.

But as I head down the opposite hall and to the back stairs leading up to the sorcerers' rooms, I can't help but stop, right in front of Gunn's office door. I can almost
feel
Joan behind it. I'm sure Gunn's in there too. I want to break down the door, insert myself right in between them. I want to tell Joan the truth, get it over with, have her forgive me, so that we can move forward and put Gunn and the rest of his thugs where they belong.

Tonight's my last chance. Tomorrow is Thursday, when Colletto is due to arrive.

I'm going to need to get to Joan and explain things another way.

CONFESSION

JOAN

I'm in my performance circle, surrounded by feathers. The club has been closed for the better part of the week so we can focus on Colletto's shipment, but tonight there's a ­special performance. Tonight, Harrison Gunn sits with my baby sister and cousin on the benches around my old stage to watch me like a circus act. The rest of my troupe? Down the hall, brewing shine in a dark, windowless lounge.

I'm not sure who has the better deal.

“What's she going to do with those feathers?” Ruby says.

Ben shushes her. “Don't talk so loud. You'll break her concentration.”

I hear Gunn answer in a low, almost seductive hum, “This was your sister's signature performance trick. She used to have half the crowd around her stage, clamoring for a glimpse of her magic.”

“Really?” Ruby whispers.

“Indeed. Joan is our magic haven's most talented sorcerer. It's why I need her here.” Gunn nods toward me. “Watch and learn.”

I know Gunn wants me to look at him and give him some kind of acknowledgment, but I can't bring myself to do it. Instead I focus on the feathers that line the edge of my stage,
and not my sister chatting with a gangster. I focus on the trick, instead of thinking about the message Gunn is trying to send me by taking my family under his wing.

It's not that I don't
want
Ruby and Ben here—it hurts as bad as a cut sometimes, when I wake up and forget that Ruby isn't sleeping by my side. But it turns everything around. It makes me ashamed of all this, angry with it, makes the truth of what I've managed to justify and shelf—turning shine into a shippable product, allowing the underworld to deliver it across America, ruining families like mine—inescapable.

Magic is what you were
made
to do
, I remind myself.
Everything you're doing, the caging spell, the shine, the deal, it's all for them
.

But the reminder isn't loud enough, isn't strong enough to banish Alex's words:
What about Ruby and Ben . . . You could end up behind bars for life. . . .

They tease me, taunt me, keep poking at me from the inside.

“Something wrong, Joan?” Gunn calls from the benches.

“No, sir.”

I concentrate back on the feathers, until I can actually feel my mind reaching out like a hand and lifting them. One by one, the feathers dance a few inches off the ground until they form a slow, spinning circle above my head. They spin fast as the wind, then a tornado, then start to bleed into one long trail of white. And out of the swirling madness, a dove flaps its wings and flies up to the rafters.

Ruby leaps to her feet and claps. “Oh my goodness, Joan, that was wonderful!”

“Holy smokes,” Ben gasps. “Pop could never manage that in a million years.”

I wipe away the small beads of sweat that have collected along my hairline. “I've just been practicing.”

“She's being humble,” Gunn says evenly. “I've seen a lot of
sorcerers in my line of work, have searched for the strongest and the best. Your cousin is a rare breed.”

A thick lump forms at the base of my throat. This time I manage to answer, “Thank you, Mr. Gunn.”

“You should really see this place when it's open during a performance,” Gunn says to Ben and Ruby in this secretive little voice, like they're old pals. He studies my dove, now perched in the rafters. “It's unlike anything you've ever imagined.”

“I can't believe we're really here,” Ben says dreamily. “Thank you, Mr. Gunn. I hope I get to stay long enough to see one of your performances.”

Gunn throws a look my way. “Well, we're working on something major right now, but when it's over, the Den will be open again, and I always need good stagehands.”

Ben, in this world, working under this roof? Not on your life
. “Mr. Gunn—”

“It's a low-level job, I know,” Gunn talks over me, “but if you prove yourself, Ben, you'll work your way up, just like your cousin. I'm a firm believer in rewarding those who deserve it.” Gunn shoots another glance at me. “And keeping good people once I find them.”

Another veiled threat, another two-sided message, like a double-sided trick
.

I've been attached to Gunn pretty much morning through night this past week, trying to ensure his deal with Colletto goes down without a hitch. I need time away from him, with just my family. I need to remember who it's all for.

I glance pointedly at the clock. “It's almost ten, sir, and they've had a long day. Think it's time we all turned in.”

“Aw, not yet, Joan, one more trick. Please?” Ruby cries.

Ben laughs. “I'm with Ruby.”

Gunn stares at me for a while. “Come on, Joan knows best,” he tells Ruby. “We've got plenty of time for tricks.”

The four of us cross the show space together, walk down the hallway to the back stairs that lead to my room. Gunn stops in front of his office. “You want a nightcap?” he asks Ben suddenly. “Maybe a shot of shine, to chase away the day's cobwebs?”

As Ben's eyes grow wide as saucers, I cut in with, “He's fine, Mr. Gunn, thank you. Again, it's been a long day.”

“Some other time then.” Gunn opens the door to his office, throws me a triumphant look. “Good night.”

“Good night, Mr. Gunn,” Ruby and Ben say in unison.

When we get into my room, I immediately push Ben and Ruby back from the door and focus on its wooden frame. I hold out my hand, and the door's wood crackles. The frame begins to disappear, the white wood bleeding into the plaster of the wall—and then there's only one thick sheet of white in front of us, studded with the doorknob.

“Did you just lock us in?” Ben says.

“I don't want you going downstairs, and I don't want Gunn coming up.” I rustle through my bureau, pull out Ruby's sole pair of pajamas. “This place isn't safe.
He
isn't safe.”

“You know, I don't get you,” Ben says. “I know you've made your own way here, but Gunn's the one who gave you the chance. He practically saved us. Besides, he's treating us like royalty. Treats you like a queen.”

“Well, appearances can be deceiving, Ben.” I kneel down and help Ruby into her pajamas. “He's dangerous. If you don't see that, you're a fool.”

“I'd rather be a fool than paranoid and ungrateful.”

“And just who's being ungrateful here?” I snap, before I can stop myself.

Ruby worms her little arms through her pajamas. “We don't have to leave, do we, Joan?” she whispers. “I don't want to leave you again.”

I sigh, collect myself. The last thing I want is them thinking
they're a burden being around. “I don't want you to leave either.” I ruffle the top of Ruby's hair, then steal a glance back at Ben. “But Gunn is not what he seems, all right? I need you to remember that. I need you to be careful, keep your head about you—don't go getting all mixed up with magic and shine so you forget where we came from, and who we are.”

“Like you have?” Ben says softly as he plays with the edges of my cotton sheets.

His words cut right through me. “Excuse me?”

He closes his eyes and lies back on the bed. “Parsonage was as much a prison for me as it had been for you, Joan. I never want to go back. I want what you have, I want a new start.”

I can't fault him for that, can I?
“Then you get a real job, outside of this hellhole. There's plenty of honest places to work up here in DC, plenty of opportunity.”

“For someone who's worked in a shining room since he was nine?” Ben says. “If this place is good enough for you, it's good enough for me.”

I put one hand over my eyes and take a deep breath. I don't want to snap again. I don't want to fight.

“You okay?” Ruby whispers. She bends down and pushes my fingers away from each other, creates a little window to my left eye.

I manage a laugh, stand and swing her onto the bed. “I'm too tired to argue with you anymore,” I tell Ben. “We'll start sparring nice and early tomorrow.”

“But I want to see more magic,” Ruby says as she kneels on the mattress. “Can you do another trick? Jed never does any tricks at home.”

“You want magic?” I face the little side lantern on the end table next to Ben. I point at it, close my eyes, and whisper, “
Off
,” and the lantern flickers out.

Ruby just giggles. “Too wild.”

She climbs over Ben as he grunts from the pressure. He steals a pillow and slides down to get comfortable on the rug on my floor, as I settle in on Ruby's right side, into the sliver of space between her and the wall. It would almost feel like our cabin back home, except the window above my bed glows with light from the outside streetlamps, and the horns and engines on M Street chug a steady hum.

After a few minutes of silence, once Ruby burrows into her pillow and starts to lightly snore, Ben says from the floor, “You can't protect us forever, Joan, you know that, right?”

I wait a minute before I answer, “Doesn't mean I can't try.”

Ben sighs. “I'm more grateful to you than words will ever do justice. But I need to make my own way in the world too.” I hear him turn over. “I can't go back there, Joan. I can't keep watching my father spiral into nothing.”

Of course I understand that. But even still, there's no way in hell I want him working for Gunn. So I give him the line I've been giving him all my life, when we were smaller and in charge of watching the bar with nothing but Jed's rifle as protection, when Jed showed up a few years back with a knife poking out of his left calf and was blubbering in fits and mumbles—even after Mama died, and I put that hard shell around myself, determined to keep moving forward, to use the future to right the past. “We'll figure this all out, Ben,” I whisper. “We'll get through it. We always do.”

But there's no answer, except a small sigh from the floor.

I can't sleep. I'm so worked up about all of it—our exchange with D Street tomorrow, my family, Gunn's slow, careful needling, and Alex—that my stomach just keeps tying itself into one long, complicated knot. I feel trapped, even more so as my back is literally up against my bedroom wall. I get a vague, almost primal urge to jump out the window, run and never look back.

So I turn to face Ruby, to remind myself of who it's all been for.

Her face is so soft, peach and plump under the light coming in from the street, and I can't help but put my hand on her cheek, feel her still-baby softness, her perfection that the world hasn't stolen away.

I am doing the right thing, aren't I?

Ruby stirs a bit, smiles back at me. “I forgot what your smell was like.”

I smile. “I smell?”

“You good-smell smell,” she says. “I've really missed you, Joan.”

“I've really missed you, too.”

She looks at me a little longer, her eyes heavy and dreamy. A sudden shadow falls across her face and she stirs, gasps. “Who's that man outside?”

I turn around, give a little gasp of my own.

“Is he real?” Ruby whispers.

“Hush, don't wake Ben.” I move quietly to kneel, then press my face against the window. Alex Danfrey is on my fire escape, only an inch of glass between us. He looks like he hasn't slept since I last saw him. Ruffled hair, shirt a mass of wrinkles, deep bags under his eyes that look almost purple.

Still, just seeing his face sends a current right through me, lights up every inch.

“He's real,” I whisper back.

Alex finds my eyes through the shaded glass of the window and smiles. He waves me outside.

“Ruby, don't say a word, don't move, you hear?” I say.

“You're going out there?”

“I'll be right back.”

I unlock the glass pane and climb out onto the fire escape, and then close the window behind me.

“Is someone in there with you?” Alex asks as soon as I turn around.

“My cousin, and my little sister Ruby. Gunn brought them up here, to help remind me of my ‘priorities.'” Then I look away, 'cause I know how that sounds: exactly how Alex pegged it—that Gunn's manipulating me, has me all turned around. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Alex takes my hand, sits me down on the fire escape. The air is frigid, has to be below zero. My body tenses as I sit, and I wrap my cotton-pajama arms around myself.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

I do what he says. It takes a moment, but then I feel it, the icy fingers of January giving way to a warm breeze. The sun grazing my face, my shoulders. The smell of fresh-cut grass. I open my eyes to see the same gazebo Alex conjured for me all those weeks ago, when it was just the two of us in the hall, tricking and flirting with our magic. His manipulation is perfect, so warm and reminiscent, that I find my eyes starting to water.

“Do you remember this?” he says.

“Of course I do.” I stare down at the wide wooden planks of Alex's gazebo, which now run underneath us. “I've missed you,” I blurt out. “I haven't seen you since that night.”

He wraps his hands around mine. “I've been thinking about you too much in that lounge. I'm constantly distracted.”

My face warms. “I know the feeling.”

Alex stares at me, like he's waiting for something, unsure of himself. And then in a rush, he leans in, kisses me deeply, desperate and tender all at once. It's like a spell, a heady, warm, wonderful spell of its own, and it almost makes the world outside his magic feel like a distant dream.

He pulls back and sighs. “It's been a rough few days, Joan.”

I nod, thinking about all of Gunn's veiled warnings, my
family floating through this place, running my caging spell over and over—“On my end too.”