Where Dreams Descend

by Janella Angeles

  A hard thump sounded outside, snapping Daron to attention. He set the watering can down and rushed out. Only he ever stayed at the building this late. And with the circus going on every night, there were certainly far better things for outsiders to do than break into an old manor.

  Daron hurried over the dust-ridden floors, past cobwebs laced between the rusted, round lamps dotting the walls, faltering when he recognized her. Unsure if he were dreaming. “What are you doing here?”

  Kallia absently traced the table propped against the wall. “I could be asking you the same thing.” Her finger resurfaced with a mound of dust. “Nice work you’ve been doing.”

  He scratched behind his ear. “I just cleaned that the other day.”

  A lie. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been keeping a slower pace, enjoying the sight of the halls ever-riddled with cobwebs and stretches of paint-dotted canvas they’d forgotten to put away. They were reminders of work still to be done. It meant there was still time.

  “Dust never goes away.” Kallia pulled her hair back, winding it around her finger. “No matter how often you wipe it clean, it always comes back.”

  He stared at the finger that kept twirling her hair, taking in her face. Hardened and cool as always, but some sadness glimmered beneath. “Are you all right?”

  Her brows drew, as though insulted. “I’m fine. Question is, are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I haven’t seen you in days, Demarco.”

  If he didn’t know better, he thought he detected a trace of frustration. But perhaps he was seeking it. Seeking something. He rubbed grains of soil between his fingertips. “I’ve had a lot to think about.”

  “Like our little accident?” she posed, casting her gaze to her feet. “You didn’t hurt me, just so you know. It was wrong of me to bait you into using magic. I know you prefer not to.”

  He swallowed hard. The way she said it, uncomfortable but apologetic, made his insides turn and tear.

  I’m no magician.

  I’m nothing.

  He should tell her now. Everything.

  “Were you still thinking about dropping from the show?” She grew quiet, watching him. Wary. “Have you changed your mind?”

  Daron didn’t give himself a chance to be lured by that lilt of hope. He shook his head. “I can’t, Kallia.”

  “Why?”

  Say it. Say it. The words were there, but he couldn’t let them go. Couldn’t let them make him into nothing before her. “It just … won’t work.”

  “Why not?” she fired back. “I thought you believed in me.”

  “I do—”

  “No, if you did, you wouldn’t be doing this. You wouldn’t be hiding away in this house, thinking no one would notice and hoping the show goes on without you.”

  “This show doesn’t need me, but it does need you.”

  “Don’t you see? I can’t compete without you.” Kallia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “According to the rules.”

  Daron raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll talk to Erasmus and the mayor.”

  “I don’t want you to talk to them. I want you to talk to me.”

  Her eyes had never looked so defenseless, reaching. Like she knew there was something just within her grasp, if she kept at it. Kept at him.

  “I don’t even know why you come here, if you don’t want to do this anymore.” Kallia gestured around at the Ranza Estate, scowling. “What are you even still doing here?”

  Daron took an instinctive step back in the direction he’d come. “Nothing.”

  “You expect me to believe you sat here for days, doing nothing?” she asked sharply, before giving a curious tilt of her head. “What’s in that section of the house?”

  If only she could’ve stayed angry. He took another step back. “It’s just a room I started working on.”

  Kallia glanced at the unkempt, dust-ridden corners. “You’re lying.”

  “I am not.”

  “Are, too.” She chuckled, advancing to the door. When he attempted to block her path, Kallia sidestepped and ran behind him. Triumphant.

  He didn’t even try stopping her. Not like he could. The plan he’d crafted carefully in his head would shatter the moment she pulled those doors open.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  And yet Daron just stood back and watched her walk through, mesmerized as her movements slowed entirely.

  As she looked up.

  And fell completely silent in her own world.

  * * *

  It was a wonderland of sights and smells, glowing lights and glimmers in the dark.

  Glass walls rose high into a crystal domed ceiling, letting the night in. Almost too dark, except for a soft luminescence flooding the room, swirling along vines. Were it not for the glow of petals and the veins of leaves, Kallia would not have been able to tell they were flowers. Some glimmered at a soft constant, while others flickered gently in the way fireflies did in the forest.

  The air hit her, warm and humid with a sweetness she knew all too well.

  A greenhouse.

  Kallia could hardly breathe as she moved from one row to the next, fingers grazing the flowers in full bloom. Her chest tightened, almost painful. “You … you did all of this?”

  Demarco leaned against the archway of the door, so shadowed that she couldn’t read his expression. “You’re not the only one with an affinity for this,” he said. “It’s like another type of magic, growing something from the ground up. Watching it thrive.”

  Of course he’d see this as one of his practical magic indulgences. Yet whenever she’d spoken of her greenhouse, he rarely reacted. “But…” she stammered, unable to stop. “But you never said anything.”

  “I didn’t think you’d care, all things considered.” With an infuriatingly casual shrug, he pushed off the wall to step farther in. “I was going to add some lights, maybe a few hanging lamps or…” He drifted off, looking away. “Most of them aren’t even opened or in full—”

  “Those are my favorite.” Her fingers were poised around a sparkling lily nearing bloom, the delicate stem holding a closed, firm head with a glow about its petals. “The best flowers are the ones just about to bloom. They are untapped potential. A possibility, about to become.”

  And this room was filled with so many beautiful possibilities. So many inevitabilities.

  “It’s for you.”

  The soft lull in Kallia’s head cleared. “What?”

  “All of this.” Demarco came up beside her. “It was supposed to be for when you won. I didn’t know what else I could give you, until I stumbled upon this broken greenhouse one day.”

  She was suddenly unable to hear what he was saying, or anything at all. Her skin prickled as she watched him glance across the room. The dim lighting of the greenhouse obscured half of his face, but she’d know it anywhere even without light. Darkly curious eyes, intent with their aim. Nose prominent, jaw sharp. Tawny skin that warmed under any bit of light.

  Her chest tensed. Her heart, pounding out of control. Lifting out of place.

  Stop, she whispered to it. Stop, stop, stop.

  “Dance with me.”

  After the longest pause imaginable, Demarco lifted a brow. “Now?”

  Kallia nodded. The world spun around her, moving in too many directions all at once. The greenhouse, Demarco, the furious beat of her heart, Demarco. The chaotic smells of too many flowers, the circus noises muffled by glass. Demarco.

  Everything whirled faster, until she couldn’t see straight. Dancing always made the world stand still.

  “We have to practice for the ball.” With her heel, she edged aside a few small pots and empty watering cans. “It would be a shame if you embarrassed me on the dance floor all night.”

  “But there’s no music.”

  She tilted her head at the windows, the faintest melody thrumming through the glass. A slower beat, transitioning from the high energy of the start of the ni
ght to the gradual, inevitable end. The hum of violin strings glided over low, smooth piano chords. A song to savor, a song to dance to.

  He bore an expression that bordered on pleading. It was almost enough to make her forget all about it, until he dragged a resigned hand down his face.

  In surrender, he extended his right hand.

  An invitation.

  She fought the triumph from bursting on her face. It felt more like a gift than a battle won. She treated it as such when she gingerly took his hand, about to ease him into the proper position—

  Suddenly, all the air in her chest whooshed out as she was spun sharp as a top.

  Strong arms caught her in a binding low dip that pressed them chest to chest.

  The world froze.

  Her jaw snapped shut. “I-I thought you didn’t dance.”

  “Never said I couldn’t.” Demarco’s eyes hovered over hers, crinkling at the edges. He led her into the next position, seamless as muscle memory. “I used to attend galas and balls on a weekly basis. Being a decent dance partner was practically a method of survival.”

  The shock wore away at the amusing thought, imagining him moving from party to party, dancing with guest after guest. “See? It does have its uses. But you’ve been holding out on me.”

  “Don’t act like you wouldn’t have used it against me. Besides, I’ve seen you dance alone. You’re…” He trailed off, lost in a thought cut short as he cleared his throat. “You don’t need a partner.”

  “Still feels good to have one,” she admitted, still warmed by the surprise. Demarco wasn’t an expert dancer by any means—a little rusty in his movements, like clothes he hadn’t tried on in a while—but as they adjusted, he led her. With a confidence in his grasp, enough to catch her off guard.

  So she simply followed.

  It was the first time she’d danced like this with someone who wasn’t Jack. Sometimes she’d choose a guest at Hellfire House to join her on stage, but there was safety when it was all for show. Masks and distance and drink to keep it from being real.

  She could feel the distinctions beneath her fingertips. In their slowing movements, forgetting the song. Their hold, no longer proper as they leaned into each other. No space between them, Kallia pressed the side of her face to his chest, hearing his heart pound. His breaths, uneven.

  A light flickered in the corner of her sight.

  His palm, against hers, faintly glowing.

  Suddenly, he tensed against her, about to pull away. “Don’t,” she mumbled against his shirt. “Please.”

  Her limbs had grown warm and tired and heavy, her heartbeat slow and her eyes so tempted to close in sleep. She needed him to keep holding her so she wouldn’t, for them to keep dancing long after the music had quieted.

  “What does it mean,” Kallia began, smiling up at him sleepily, “when a magician who’s sworn off power to the world shows his magic to someone?”

  His troubled gaze locked on their joined hands. “I don’t know,” he said, before finally turning to her. Everything in his face softened. “Guess it depends on who—”

  The sudden ringing outside cut through the glass, distant but clear.

  The light vanished from their palms. Warmth washed over by ice at the realization.

  The Alastor bells, far away, ringing twice like a warning.

  38

  The bells’ echoes haunted the streets as they neared the center of Glorian.

  “Everyone, stand back!”

  Daron tried peering above the heads of the crowd, but he saw nothing. Could only taste the cold panic in the warm air, a razor blade cutting the night short.

  Kallia squeezed through the cluster of people by sheer force of will. Her eyes straight ahead, hand in his. Finally, they caught sight of Mayor Eilin standing at the hub of it all on a street corner, flanked by a few people in uniform who gestured onlookers aside to clear the space. “Check the Alastor Place!” he snarled, even though the bells had fallen still. “And get these men out of here.”

  He hailed over a pair of medics who stretched two gurneys out next to two sprawled-out figures, moaning in pain. Alive, Daron thought with relief. One was a judge, the other a magician. Judge Bouquet and Robere.

  Daron gripped Kallia’s hand tight, but she just looked blankly at the scene, mesmerized by the horror. Lost in it.

  “Their eyes,” she said, softly. “They’re…”

  A shiver ran through him. He caught glimpses of the figures being transferred onto the gurneys. Bloody strips of cloth lay where both victims’ eyes should’ve been, and Daron’s insides wrenched.

  A hand clapped over his shoulder. An imposing man in uniform looked over their heads to where the mayor stood surrounded by contestants and judges, sternly waving them over.

  “Just follow and cooperate,” the man said gruffly. “And we won’t have to use force.”

  Kallia and Daron shared a glance as their escort pushed them through the crowd. A few faces turned in their direction, and Daron’s whole body began to sweat.

  “This has gone far enough,” Mayor Eilin whispered furiously once they reached him. He towered over Kallia so his citizens could not hear. “You’re going to put a stop to this whole sick charade.”

  No one appeared more unamused than Kallia. “This wasn’t me. I don’t even know what’s happened.”

  “Oh, how convenient. What a bloody coincidence that when two magicians are found with their eyes pulled straight from their sockets, you only now just waltz through in the aftermath.”

  A stillness entered her, as if she were holding herself back. “We did because the bells started ringing.”

  “And I wonder why that is,” he seethed, shifting to Daron. “I’m not letting this go any further. As a precaution, I’m afraid I have to make cuts to the show. I will not have any more accidents plaguing my town and my magicians.”

  The ice surrounding Daron’s bones cracked. “You’re forgetting that she is one of your magicians, too.”

  “She’s trouble, that’s what she is. I knew it as soon as I saw her.”

  Before Daron had a chance to raise a fist, Kallia stepped forward. “I won’t play guilty for you just because you’re looking for someone to blame. You’re the mayor of this city. Take ownership of it, for once in your life.”

  Angry, red splotches speared across the man’s cheeks, especially when he finally noticed the lingering group of stragglers watching on. Even the other contestants and judges remained, observing without sneers for once. Only fear. Fear for whatever was hunting, and if it would be coming for them next.

  After a tightly drawn breath, the mayor said, “As the leader of this city, I aim to do best by my home. You’re out, Kallia.”

  On the outside, she appeared every bit composed. But the small cracks of her armor veined the surface. The small twitch of her brow, a slight quiver of her lip. “Kicking me out won’t solve anything. Why not cancel the whole show altogether?”

  “And risk being stuck here for the rest of your days?”

  Lottie emerged as if out of nowhere, notepad in hand. Erasmus trailed behind her with an expression of fascinated concern, like how someone would look upon the carcass of an animal in the street. While he at least bared a morsel of regret, Lottie showed none. Only knowingness, edged with certainty.

  “What are you going on about?” Judge Armandos demanded.

  “A theory of mine,” she said. “You all can’t leave this place because of a game you signed up for. And I doubt the game will let you go simply because you want to stop it.”

  “You speak as though we’re cursed.”

  “Maybe you are. Maybe this city is. No one knows what’s going on, so would you really want to risk angering whatever force is keeping you here?”

  “We are not cursed.” Mayor Eilin raked a hand through his hair. “We made a bad deal. You can’t go back on a deal around here.”

  “Oh?” Lottie scrawled in her notepad. “And why is that?”

  Mayor Ei
lin blinked rapidly, wordless for a moment, before the veins of his neck bulged at her movement. “What are you writing down? You … you can’t publish any of this.” The more she wrote, the more flustered he appeared. “Rayne, she’ll ruin us—stop her!”

  “I can’t stop her any more than I can stop a storm with my bare hands,” the man said with affection. His arms crossed in casual defiance.

  “I can’t risk more accidents, or more magicians going missing.”

  “Magicians go missing all the time. I wonder why you’re only noticing now,” the journalist muttered in mock astonishment. “If you look closer, Mister Mayor, there’s a pattern to the misfortunes that have befallen your show. Four go missing, three have yet to wake, and two…” She trailed off with a quick shudder. “The hunter who works like that—with a system in mind—won’t react well when surprised. You either play this person’s game, or they widen the game board to more victims.”

  “Are you suggesting we just stay here, like sitting ducks?”

  “You’re already sitting ducks,” she said bluntly. “But if you cut everything this far into the game, you’ll be left with nothing more than a horde of dissatisfied customers, an empty show hall, and a ballroom you’ve spent a fortune trying to renovate.”

  The mayor’s jaw clenched. “Of course you’d say so. You’re only here to fill your gossip rag, after all.”

  “Gossip rag? You wound me,” Lottie said with razor-edged relish. “Before you doubt me, Mister Mayor, you missed something.” She thrust a piece of paper in his face. “You went straight to pointing fingers and didn’t even check the scene of the crime properly.”

  Mayor Eilin’s eyes narrowed on the paper, before his entire face blanched.

  “Two of Sight,” the journalist read sharply. “You’ve gotten these before, haven’t you? When those other contestants mysteriously vanished? And the other three magically fell unconscious?”

  Everyone regarded each other warily, confusion edging into suspicion. When Daron glanced at Kallia, even her gaze was turned to the ground.

  “There’s nothing magical or mysterious about it. If you’re going to point fingers, point them at this.” Lottie flicked the paper in the air, leaving the mayor to struggle to grab it. “Find whoever’s leaving these, and you’ll find your saboteur.”