Where Dreams Descend

by Janella Angeles

  Erasmus snapped his fingers. “Ah, you’re jealous.”

  “Jealous?” Daron’s brow crinkled. “Are you joking—jealous of what?”

  “Her power,” the proprietor said in one gleeful breath. “I can tell the judges and other contestants feel the same, and unfortunately, such attitudes develop from ugly complexes. Insecurities. Your behavior is not unusual—”

  “This is not jealousy,” Daron said a little too hotly, the words raw against his throat. “I’m concerned. She could harm someone if we don’t take the necessary precautions.”

  Like him. In the hallway, she’d already begun trying to read him with those viper eyes, seeking his weaknesses so he couldn’t see hers. If Kallia uncovered enough about him, there was absolutely no telling what she’d do.

  And Daron wasn’t done with Glorian yet. Not even close.

  The tense pause broke under the faint sounds of chatter across the spacious show hall, interrupted by the constant patters and hammering of construction. Workers and labor magicians alike had been milling in and out over the past week, breaking up the stage to replace it with new boards and lights along the edges. Daron gladly fell into the drowning rhythm of hammers on nails before he noticed Erasmus assessing him, pushing his purple-tinted glasses down the bridge of his nose.

  “I must say, Demarco, you shift like the sides of a coin when it’s tossed,” said the proprietor. “If you’re so set on kicking Kallia out, why approve her audition in the first place?”

  “She’s an impressive performer. Not even I can deny that.” Too impressive, he didn’t want to admit. “But if even one of her displays, or anyone else’s for that matter, turn into something we can’t handle, then I’d regret giving my vote to an accident in the making.”

  His voice dropped off as a dark cloud flooded his thoughts.

  The broken mirror.

  His screams.

  He drowned for a moment, the first in a long time, letting the memory knife through him until it was over. He set his gaze back on Erasmus, who watched him with a new wariness.

  “We don’t enter this business clueless of its dangers. We embrace all that comes with this life; it’s unavoidable.” Erasmus pivoted away from incoming workers hauling piles of redwood planks. “The worse damage is done off-stage when you try to smother out potential. When you blow out the candle before people in the room can glean its light. And this city does not need to suffer in the dark anymore, don’t you think?”

  Shame coursed through him, burning under his skin. Eva would have walloped him for the very same reasons. He’d felt her prickly presence hovering around him ever since he entered the Alastor Place hours earlier, intent on removing Kallia from Spectaculore.

  That morning, Daron had risen earlier than the sun, marching over to the archaic building to catch Erasmus or Mayor Eilin first, only to find one other person waiting in the show hall.

  She sat in one of the dusty seats in the front row. Her back to him, observing the bare stage with the most searing brand of concentration. She never acknowledged him, though he knew she was sharp enough to hear even needles clink from the backmost rows. She simply didn’t care to turn around, so focused, as though watching a show only she could see.

  It was exactly what he used to do. Sit by the stage in the early hours of the day, pretending to be in the audience. Enjoying the rare peace of it.

  Even as more people had filtered in, she remained. Just as Daron stood in the same place by the door. Workers and labor magicians jostled by him. Other contestants arrived, urging him to join them for a light round of warm-up exercises. He batted them all away just to continue standing there, curious.

  Daron shook his head at how long it had taken him to stop. He’d been the one to instigate their argument between their rooms, after all. With help from a bit of liquor, and the residual adrenaline of surviving the dinner party.

  That’s no excuse, he could practically hear Eva whispering.

  He snuck another glance at Kallia making her way through the show hall. Even with wooden planks, paint, and tools scattered everywhere, she all but glided around them, moving with ease in pants tucked into tall burgundy boots and a long black jacket to stave off the morning chill. They had the same effect as that tight wrap of a gown from dinner. People tensed if she got too near and watched her shamelessly when her back was turned, as though she were a flame that could spill over at any moment.

  “You of all people should be more supportive of her,” Erasmus interjected abruptly, as if he could hear Daron’s thoughts. “I believe you see something in her that not all the judges can relate to. Perhaps her story will end differently.”

  Whatever regret had briefly sunk into Daron’s head vanished to the cold returning. The black cloud, threatening his thoughts.

  Everything about him, inside him, turned to ice.

  “It’s truly a real shame, what happened to that assistant of yours.” The proprietor ticked his tongue sympathetically. “You two made quite a pair, and she was such a pretty girl—”

  “Shut up, Rayne,” Daron snarled. He edged away, into the cacophony of hammering and shouting that only brought him closer to the sound of a young woman laughing with all the confidence in the world, hours before the first performance.

  * * *

  The true leader of the Conquerors went by Canary.

  After the scarlet canary, a songbird whose voice was lower than one would suspect for its size. Earlier in the morning, Kallia had given a sleep-rumpled Aaros instructions to find the girl as soon as he’d risen and to meet her at the Alastor Place. At such an hour, he probably would’ve said yes to walking stark naked all over the city.

  No one but Kallia would be in their right mind to wake so early just to case the Alastor Place on the first day of the competition, hours before dress rehearsal. She’d simply watched the stage, alone, envisioning the show as the audience would behold it—the lights lit and the red curtains drawn, sliding open in answer to the applause.

  The applause faded as hammering and shouting shook Kallia from the dream. Disoriented, she stole a glance around at the construction workers filing in and out. Demarco stood in the back with that inscrutable stare of his. Erasmus Rayne had only just arrived, and finally, Aaros dragged in the ruby-haired girl who appeared even more disagreeable when freshly woken. But as Kallia relayed her plans for tonight, the circus performer’s scowl melted into a smirk. She’d given her name like an offering in return, and Kallia accepted with a knowing smile.

  “My crew’s not even allowed to watch.” Canary kicked aside a broken hunk of wood by the foot of the stage. “We’re supposed to hide until we’re summoned for whatever Rayne wants us for. He still hasn’t decided.”

  “But you’re the Conquering Circus,” Aaros declared. “The main piece of it all—he should be showcasing you ladies everywhere, not keeping you in the dark.”

  “Exactly, pretty boy,” she remarked drily. “If the circus were really in my hands, we’d blow the top off this town. But alas, his money, his reins.”

  Kallia frowned, displeased but not at all shocked. Erasmus Rayne had a slipperiness to him, a tendency to grow easily distracted by the next great act and forget all else. He may look at Kallia like a star now, but he’d most likely looked at dozens of others the same way before. Canary, perhaps. The rest of the Conquering Circus, too.

  She didn’t like it, but Kallia would still give him her best. If that’s what it took to stay in the game. Demarco certainly didn’t approve of her anymore. They’d avoided one another since he’d accused her of being a reckless saboteur, which was fine by her. As long as she had Rayne’s favor, she needed nothing else.

  Except more performers.

  Kallia made her last sweep of the stage with Canary and Aaros before descending the steps, going over the positions and directions she’d imagined the others coming in from. It was a smaller platform than she was used to. Nights at Hellfire House had spoiled Kallia with the luxury of her own floor, but the glo
ssy stage was vast enough for what she had in mind. The whole place, to her amazement, was finally looking like a proper show hall for performers.

  Beside her, workers paddled at the dark velvet curtains, ridding the dust and readying them for draping. The floors had been wiped, more seats repaired and installed, and the stark triangular windows and walls carried a touch of color to lift the room from its ashes. A huge improvement from the bare stage Kallia had first walked onto. In the coming weeks with more fixes here and there, the Alastor Place would properly gleam in the way it seemed to yearn to.

  “I should get back.” Canary nodded toward the door. “Have to call the animals to action for a decent pre-show practice.”

  “From what I observed last time, I’m sure you’ll have no issue.” Kallia gave Aaros a jostle in the gut. “Unlike my dazzling assistant here, who I swear has two left feet and the rhythm of a flightless bird.”

  “Look, I can lift you with one hand.” He cracked his knuckles almost theatrically. “My brawn must count for something.”

  “Oh, it does, darling.” She patted him reassuringly on the chest. “As long as you don’t drop me as often as you do during practice, you’ll have a place to rest those muscles of yours.”

  “I suppose it’s a fair exchange in the place of wages.” Aaros’s eyes slitted at Canary’s sudden snicker. “My only question is, what does the songbird get out of it?”

  “I’m no bird.” Canary cackled, backing away in the direction of the grand doors behind them. “My sort of songs would burn you to pieces if I sang them for you.”

  With that, she stalked off, sending the people in her path veering away.

  “I can’t help but find her a little disturbing.” Aaros shuddered. “If she ends up being a serial killer out to slit our throats, I’m blaming you.”

  “She’s not a killer.” Kallia whacked him in the arm. “She’s a flame-eater.”

  Lips pursed, Aaros let her words sink in, until finally he nodded. “Of course. And when were you planning on telling me you were incorporating a surly flame-eater into your performance?”

  “A well-connected flame-eater, mind you,” Kallia added with a slight chuckle. “One with more talents than that, and friends in high places who can—”

  “You’re only allowed to have your assistant on the stage with you.”

  Kallia and Aaros whirled around at the interruption. She tensed but tucked back her scowl. “I wasn’t aware that judges had the right to eavesdrop on private conversations. Not very ethical.”

  “It doesn’t seem very ethical to cheat, either.”

  How dare he? First sabotage, now cheating? If she were going to win this competition, it would be because she was the best. And she would earn every well-deserved moment of glory on the way. “I’m not a cheater.”

  At her ire, he edged back, his frown almost laughably penitent. “Of course not. Sorry. I … I actually came over to ask if we could talk in private. To apologize.”

  “You come over to spout the rules, accuse me of cheating—and you call this the makings of an apology?”

  He scratched the back of his neck, flustered. “It was my intention.”

  Aaros cut in. “Why is there even a need for it in the first place?” Ice edged his voice as he narrowed a suspicious look at Demarco, then at Kallia.

  Aaros wanted an explanation. He was long overdue one, she knew, and it pained her to observe the tentative trust between them waver. Her selective silence rankled him. And not once had he given her a reason not to trust him.

  Then again, how easily had she trusted Jack at his word?

  “Nothing to worry about. I can handle it.” Kallia delivered a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “Would you be so kind as to run to the hotel to grab my performance dress? I’d love to get it tailored before the rehearsal.”

  The excuse was no lie, but the dismissal lay between them. Rather than force the issue, Aaros merely shook off her hand and strolled to the door. Not without shooting his hardest glare at Demarco, the threat clear: I’m watching you.

  “You haven’t told him about the other night?” Demarco released a breath-shaken laugh once Aaros was out of earshot. “So this is why he hasn’t come at me with his fists.”

  “I could easily change that, if you’d like,” Kallia said evenly. “But no, contrary to what everyone thinks, I don’t tell my assistant everything.”

  Shockingly, he fired off no smug comment. Just a small, dry curl of his lips. “The trust between a magician and an assistant is a meaningful thing. He’ll help you get to that spotlight, even if it means he never reaches it himself,” he said. “Never take a bond like that for granted.”

  He was right, and she hated it. “Is this part two of your apology? Telling me things I shouldn’t do?”

  For a moment, Demarco looked like he wanted to snap back. Instead, his shoulders fell. “I’m quite bad at this, aren’t I?”

  “Quite.” Skeptical, she looked him and up down. He was acting far more agreeable than she had thought him capable, even caught him almost smiling. “If you want to get it right this time, you can first start by saying what you’re sorry for.”

  “All right,” he said, matching her arch tone with a disarming gleam in his eye. “I’m sorry for how I approached you outside your suite that night. It was…” He paused, then sighed. “I was being a complete ass.”

  Honesty looked interesting on a man. Kallia tilted her head. “Go on.”

  When he lifted his gaze, her hint of a smile almost tugged one out of him. “I’m not sure if anyone has said this to you yet, but … thank you. If it weren’t for you, a lot of people could’ve been seriously hurt.”

  “We all know that’s not how the story’s been spun.” The other contestants and judges never said it to her face, but their silence and snide looks said well enough. “Listen, I appreciate the gesture, but what does it change? Because I have the distinct feeling I’m still not entirely cleared in your book.”

  Demarco let the words sink in with a tiny nod. “Glorian has not treated you fairly, but I’m a fair man. I can’t ignore how the others are trying to create more odds and stack them against you. Unrightfully so.”

  “And what are you going to do, convince them otherwise? Save the poor, defenseless damsel from the devils?” Kallia’s voice grew cold. “I already know I have to work twice as hard with all that against me. I don’t need anyone fighting for me behind the scenes. Least of all you.”

  “I wasn’t going to. This business comes with many battles, so you have to get used to fighting. For yourself. Every step of the way,” Demarco said. “But the easiest way to get a rise out of those who try to tear you down is to get back up, and you’re already fighting much harder than they expected.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

  Kallia nodded, but inside, she’d become all knots. It was the first time someone had talked to her like that. Like an actual player. What a luxury it was to be taken seriously, and what a shame it had taken this long. For Demarco to be the first, after the way they’d fought, was unexpected.

  Somehow this unseated Kallia more than the rest. She was used to angry, judgmental men. But this … unbalanced her. More than she liked.

  “I have a question for you, Mister Demarco. One that’s been lingering.”

  The shadow that flashed across his face disappeared so quickly, she wasn’t sure it had truly been there.

  “And that is?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know much about you, either, other than your familial ties. And that you’re a notable magician.” Kallia crossed her arms. “But from what I’ve gathered, you don’t seem like a fool who becomes so consumed by panic that you’re rendered absolutely useless. Why, then, was it my quick thinking that put out the fire, and not yours?”

  Demarco went still. Not angry, just quiet. It frustrated Kallia, for there was nothing in it she could pick apart and read. Not even as he said, “I haven�
��t used magic for the stage in a long time.”

  Kallia quelled the grimace creeping over her face, unable to imagine going a day without magic. “And why is that?”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You ask too many questions.”

  “Come on, Demarco. You can’t leave it at that. My curiosity is piqued.”

  “Then it’ll have to stay that way.”

  “Are we back to hissing at each other like two cats in a cage already?” Her head tilted. “And here I thought we were finally getting along.”

  “Consider this a temporary ceasefire.” Demarco resumed his stern demeanor, and the sudden shift set Kallia at ease, the knots inside her finally starting to untangle.

  Before he leaned in all of a sudden, close to her ear. “And don’t forget what I said before,” he said, voice low. “You’re not allowed to have anyone other than your assistant lend a hand with your tricks. Not even circus performers.”

  The warning grazed the skin of her neck. The knots seized again, such a strange jolt to her system that she couldn’t help but smile down at her crossed arms. “Don’t you worry. I know the rules.”

  “Sure.” A low chuckle escaped from him. Kallia bit back her own. “See you at rehearsal.”

  14

  Kallia exited the Alastor Place as if she were floating. Hardly a hint of sun shone through the gloomy clouds, but her cheeks remained flushed.

  She had a whole day to herself until the rehearsal preceding show night. They’d been told it was only to run through the program and tour the new stage. No practicing magic, for everything was to be done live when the seats were filled. Good, Kallia thought. There was no dazzling a crowd and judges if they knew what to expect, and she intended to keep her cards close.

  She raised herself on the balls of her feet, about to launch into a little spin before stopping abruptly at the sound of someone clearing his throat.

  “Look at you, waltzing about like an angel with new wings.” Aaros matched her step, past the closed circus tents. “And here I thought you and Demarco despised each other.”