Where Dreams Descend

by Janella Angeles

  The logic to his madness was a fearsome thing to behold. Daron had waded through his share of tabloids and papers, journalists who dug and found what others might not. They gloried in the scandalous. And unfortunately, Spectaculore was rife with exciting material for someone with a pen and the ear of society.

  That it had to be her was an additional punishment. She’d certainly gloried in Daron’s shock, a predator’s joy right before the kill. After refusing all her interview requests, visits, and letters, he should’ve anticipated this sooner.

  He could almost hear Eva chuckling in his ears.

  “No one will come here if we’re painted as a bleak tragedy,” Mayor Eilin said.

  “Don’t underestimate her way with words. Though I’m sure you all know to be on your guard with what you say in her presence. Lottie de la Rosa always was the prettiest snake I ever met.” Erasmus sighed fondly. “Even when we were married, she never let me forget it.”

  The mayor choked. “You two were together?”

  “Briefly. It was an explosive marriage, as you can imagine.”

  “This is insanity.” Mayor Eilin looked close to ripping his own hair out. “Mark my words, Rayne. The Patrons will catch wind of this and it’ll be over before you can say, ‘showtime.’”

  “Then we better act fast.” He smirked before nodding to Daron. “Besides, from what Demarco said, I doubt tabloid gossip will have them running from wherever they’re stationed.”

  It didn’t matter; his aunt would come the instant she heard he was among the roster of judges. He could already feel the weight of a letter in his courier case. Lottie, he might be able to avoid for long enough. But his aunt, as well?

  He’d be lucky if he came out of that collision of forces alive.

  “They won’t.” Reflexively, he glanced back at Kallia. No matter how well she hid it, she’d had a lost look about her ever since she touched the head of the fallen Conqueror, and there was no knowing what she’d seen. Everyone else had apparently forgotten all about the incident, so fixated on the show. The damned, stupid show.

  “Ah, see, there we go. A cooperative chap.”

  At the jovial pat on his arm, Daron bristled. “Just because they won’t come immediately doesn’t mean they won’t come at all.”

  “But by then, it’ll be too late to shut us down. You know as well as I that in this industry, these things do happen—and what a waste it would be if only our small corner of the island knew about it,” the man said. “I thought it best to keep it that way for a bit, but circumstances change. Luckily Lottie arrived just in time to see the plot thicken, and she has the contacts and clout to make us heard. More coverage means more business, isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Not like this.” The mayor’s face lost its color. “Not with all these threats to people’s lives.”

  “The threats will make the show,” Erasmus promised. “Don’t you worry. We’re hitting two birds with one stone because nothing gets past Lottie when she’s on a story. In due time, we’ll know who to point fingers at. The only way to unearth dark secrets is total exposure. A spotlight that will bare all.”

  Daron swallowed hard, and out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Kallia flinch, too.

  36

  The countdown to the final show ticked on, with the circus leading each night by storm.

  Kallia had yet to explore the entire spectacle coiling around the city. She was glad for the brief interim—it gave her time to take in the grand sights the Conquering Circus had to offer—but the absence of Juno still weighed heavily on her. Though grand, the show around her was fragile as a kingdom of cards a breath away from falling. The audience hardly noticed beyond the dazzling constancy of each night, with each performer holding the circus together without fail.

  The Starling twins tiptoeing over wires and flying from one building top to the next.

  The Cygna sisters, dancing gracefully underwater in glass cases, without fear of drowning.

  And those daring folk who played with flames for fun.

  Kallia would never forget the first time she’d seen Canary perform. She now knew how her own audience felt—wide-eyed and waiting. After ingesting the fire on her baton, Canary sent Kallia a wink before dropping to her knees, covering her mouth with a wide, frantic stare. Choking. The crowd circling her gasped, even Kallia’s stomach plummeted. Until Canary opened her hands, freeing the flames inside in an immense fiery kiss to those around her.

  Despite being down one performer, the Conquerors never showed it. Whenever possible, Kallia lent a hand to their acts if they needed it, accompanied them as they visited Juno. They were a plague of loud laughter and chatter upon the hospital wing. The Starlings filled the bedside table with a messy assortment of candies and trinkets. The Cygna sisters brushed Juno’s hair, braiding it into different styles each day. Even Rova attempted to join them with Aya, but the doctor drew a firm line against permitting entry to an enormous, black-eyed lioness.

  They joked and cackled as they would in their tents, but nothing woke Juno or the other magicians. Not noise, or hunger. Not even family.

  Canary fell more silent with each passing visit, Kallia noticed; too worried to pretend as time crept on. But at night, she would throw on her costume without complaint, and perform. No stops, no breaks. No tears or fuss. And no one was the wiser as they watched their entertainment.

  Kallia wove through the stalls and tents with Aaros, waving to friends she’d made and performers she knew in passing. They stopped at the dagger thrower’s tent, a show of heart-stopping thrills and near-misses timed to the music gloriously pumping into the air. Other acts soothed, like the aerial performers who glided on ribbon-rippling fabrics cascading from the ceilings of the taller tents. Kallia adored it so much, she wondered if she could beg for a lesson and possibly incorporate them into her final act.

  Demarco would never go for it.

  She turned as if his disapproving frown were aimed at her now. Rayne had stayed true to his word—after the arrival of Lottie and her ever-present pen, people from outside flooded the city with their invitations and maps to navigate the Woods. A dangerous journey, but apparently worth the risk for a taste of Spectaculore. And with their arrival, Demarco had all but disappeared, avoiding the fray. Avoiding her.

  They hadn’t practiced in days, barely spoken at all. Kallia already dreaded the imminent headlines, when they’d all find out she and Demarco would no longer be performing together.

  “Hey.” Aaros looped his elbow with hers. “Want to turn in for the night?”

  At least she had Aaros. Even he could tell something haunted her. When she couldn’t focus, couldn’t sleep. Without even prompting him, he’d somehow maneuvered both of their beds into the common room of her suite. She’d simply returned one day to find him casually lounging on his mattress no more than a foot away from hers as though nothing about the room had changed.

  “I was bored.” He’d shrugged, and it had taken everything in her not to jump on his bed and tackle him in a hug. Such gestures were his way of helping when she didn’t have the words to tell him what was wrong. With Jack, with Demarco. Everything. He didn’t have to know to be her friend. He was just there to be there, and for that, he’d become her truest friend.

  Together, they navigated the Conquering Circus, learning its secrets and sampling every delight it had to offer. The crowd provided enough cover to get them through undetected for the most part. But with Lottie’s arrival, it was best not to chance staying longer than they needed to. Demarco avoided the circus altogether nowadays, not keen on becoming the next story of the Poison of the Press. Or so he claimed, in those fleeting moments with him before he fled.

  Heat rushed to Kallia’s cheeks. His silence affected her more than she’d dare admit. He hadn’t mentioned dropping from the competition since their last practice, but he’d never taken it back, either. She had no idea where his head was at, had never felt further from a person.

  “Enjoying t
he show?”

  Kallia had barely been watching the street act when the voice snapped her attention to Lottie de la Rosa, smiling as if she’d found herself a prize. “Even in a city as small as this, you’re a hard woman to track down, Kallia…” She lingered as if to say a last name, and found the lack of one more interesting. “Mind having a quick word?”

  Aaros had already begun tugging her away, but Lottie only followed more fervently. “Honestly, what’s the harm in a little conversation?”

  “I don’t like my words twisted and used against me.” Slowing to a stop, Kallia’s gaze drifted to the notepad held by a red-polished set of fingers.

  “Aw, did Demarco warn you about me already?”

  “He didn’t have to.” His efforts to avoid her at all costs told Kallia enough. Nobody earned a name like The Poison of the Press without having killed a few roots in her path.

  Lottie’s head cocked, as if battling the instinct to scrawl out more words—before surprisingly, drawing the notepad back into her pocket. “Fine. Let’s speak frankly.” Her sleek lined eyes eased their aim. “The mayor, the judges, and the remaining contestants have all given me accounts that have painted you in their truth. And it’s not the most flattering.”

  Kallia couldn’t care less what they thought of her, though a small part of her ought to. A bad name gave you infamy, extra press, and attention, but the outside world might be a different story. Eventually she would have to find a new act, and if she were truly honest with herself, nothing terrified her more than free-falling into that uncertainty, blindfolded.

  She shoved the thought away. “As if I care.”

  “Good. You shouldn’t,” Lottie said. “I didn’t come here to give a spotlight to Soltair’s most insecure men. I didn’t even come here to solve Rayne’s mystery. Not really.”

  Kallia’s brow crinkled. “Then why travel all the way here?”

  “To see you,” she said, as though it were obvious. “A brilliant and powerful female magician who’s stealing the show? It’s not something you see every day.”

  “Is that all?”

  “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  She was baiting her, the wry twist of her smirk wrapped around a secret.

  In the barest slivers he’d revealed of his old life, Demarco had told her how reporters used to hound him. The way they clawed for a moment and made it something entirely different, how they dug into lives for sport and a headline. It all felt like a warning for now.

  And yet, Kallia was curious about the woman before her. More than she’d dare admit.

  “Aaros, I’ll meet you back at the room.” Kallia shot him a look. After a hesitant blink, he nodded, knowing she could fend off the wolves herself.

  As soon as he disappeared, Kallia resumed her sharp, waiting stare.

  “You know, I adore your spirit. You’re not the least bit shy, nor afraid,” Lottie said, her features now grim. “I think that’s why you’ve lasted longer than the rest.”

  “Who?”

  “Why, your fellow female stage magicians. You may have noticed, there aren’t very many. If any,” she muttered. “But there are many who would like to keep it that way.”

  Kallia’s frown deepened. She thought back to the scorn of the mayor and the judges, the way Jack had always spoken of female magicians living quietly across Soltair because that’s the only way society would have them. The only truth he ever told her, the most disappointing one of all.

  “Magician or not, we’ve always lived in a series of clubs we’re not allowed to enter,” the journalist went on. “We’re told we’re simply lucky to be in the room, as long as we stay quiet. Make even a little murmur, and it’s like we’ve disturbed the order of life itself.”

  “Trust me, I know,” Kallia said curtly. “Since arriving, I’ve been constantly reminded.”

  “That’s because they’re scared. If you can’t stay small in the box they’ve built around you, they will make you feel small until you fit right back in it.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “It better not. If even a little harm comes to you here, this place will wish it stayed quiet.”

  A sudden outburst of oohs erupted from an act nearby, but it dulled to the unflinching ferocity in Lottie’s voice, the fierceness in her eyes that belonged to a friend. Not someone she’d only met days before and avoided every day since. It almost made Kallia choke up. “But … you don’t even know me.”

  Lottie paused, inhaling deeply. “Have you ever heard of Enita Son?”

  Kallia shook her head. Lottie nodded in understanding. “Gone a week after opening a show at the New Crown Amphitheater when the first magician backed out. Almost a decade ago, and never heard from again,” she said. “What about Adeline Andradas?”

  The shake of Kallia’s head grew slower.

  “Known in Deque for her card tricks—from close-up guessing games to shuffles in the air where the cards danced in formation. She’d perform on the streets for sport, until one day, some gent offered her a wealthy sum to perform at a major private function. According to witnesses, she never showed, and was never seen again, performing or otherwise.” Lottie paused with a haunted expression. “By now, you’ve heard about Eva—”

  “All right, enough. I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “He never told you?”

  “Who?” Kallia exhaled sharply, her temple throbbing. All the names paired with silent ends, and she hadn’t even heard that many yet. Only enough to know there were so many more, and so much she didn’t know about magicians like herself. Why none had ever risen past clubs and tricks in the streets.

  Lottie observed her, eyes troubled. “You … really have no idea, do you?”

  Her tone wasn’t out to hunt, but Kallia chose her words carefully. “I never had much access to current news before this. And everyone in this town barely talks about what happens outside of it.”

  “Yes, it’s quite disturbing,” Lottie grumbled. “Though it’s not only Glorian when it comes to the stories of female magicians. As a whole, people in Soltair prefer plugging their ears and pretending everything is fine.”

  “Why?”

  “People are ignorant. Or they simply choose to be when threatened.” She sniffed. “I heard a theory that female magicians were once regarded as the most powerful in ability and skill. Back when the Soltair cities warred with one another, before the Patrons stepped in, it was said female magicians were chosen for the forefront. Throughout the years, it’s been shaken off as rumor, which is rather convenient for those currently dominating the stage.”

  In all her studies, Kallia had never touched upon such a fact, not that it would have mattered. She knew her strength, how her power felt in the grips of a trick. And Jack had never once made her feel lesser. But it was all too easy for a fact like that to become a small secret, tucked into the corners of time. Lost, until it was nothing more than a lie. The people of Glorian who regarded her with scorn would rather see her weak than dare admit she was stronger than them. Even with the evidence right in their faces.

  “You’re suggesting history and public opinion have been manipulated,” Kallia deadpanned. “That’s ironic coming from someone called the Poison of the Press.”

  “I never lie for my own benefit.” Lottie tossed back her hair. “I don’t frame facts I don’t like as silly myths meant to amuse my readers.”

  “Then I hope they’re ready. Because I’m a far cry from some silly, little myth. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  The woman’s face brushed with a hint of sadness. “That’s what I’m hoping,” she said. “When I heard about Spectaculore, I thought for a small town removed from society, an experimental show couldn’t hurt. That was until Raz told me about you, and the accidents. The disappearances.”

  “You think they’re connected? Those were male magicians.”

  “The show isn’t over yet, Kallia.”

  Cold seeped into her blood as a round of applause
scattered freely into the night. Usually the sound comforted her, but each clap pricked at her hard enough to draw blood. Just like everything this woman said, everything she was implying. “Miss de la Rosa, no matter how many people want me gone, I’m not going to just disappear. I’m not exactly defenseless.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard about your power. But even shields can double as targets.”

  Resentment flared through Kallia. “How could you even understand? You’re not a magician.” A hot wave of embarrassment trickled beneath her skin when she remembered the notepad hidden from view. “You’re only out to catch your next big story.”

  “How soulless of me, for doing my job. But I chase stories based on facts that don’t add up, and I’ve been following this one for years.” Lottie’s lips pursed. “And I might understand you better than you think. You’re not the first magician I’ve tried to warn, and at the rate you and this show are going, you probably won’t be the last.”

  37

  The sounds of the circus sank through the walls of the Ranza Estate, dulled from a distance. Trumpets blaring, drums booming, laughter and gleeful shrieks piercing the air.

  A splatter hit Daron’s shoe. Wet seeping in. Jerking back, he tipped up the rusted watering can, aiming it toward the line of pots again. Normally, maintaining the greenhouse calmed his nerves, the last few days of orders and preparation keeping him busy. The final shipment of plants arrived just this morning, the last piece to the picture he’d envisioned the moment he first saw this room.

  There were times when he thought about asking for Aaros’s opinion, and even more times where he knew he’d regret it from the potential jokes alone.

  More than ever, he wished he could ask Eva. She wouldn’t even have to see the room. She’d take one look at his face and know exactly what to say.

  Just show her, Dare.

  Just tell her.

  Except he hadn’t talked to Kallia in days, didn’t trust himself the more his mind replayed her falling to the ground, his palms burning. That hopelessness in his veins came back raw even now. He’d hurt her, and he’d never loathed his magic more.