With that, the headliner strutted off to the far end of the store, all with the silent expectation for Kallia to follow.
“I’d go if I were you.” Herald whistled in low amusement as he wiped down the counter. “She spends a little too much time around here when she’s not performing, and she’s no fun when she’s prickly.”
“What’s back there?”
“More mirrors.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry, if she wanted to drop an attack on you and fistfight to the death, she’d want a live audience for that.”
That was reassuring. From how insistent Vain had been to keep Jack outside, that was Kallia’s first thought. But at that point, pure curiosity drove her to follow, if only to see what a headliner did in a tiny shop of mirrors when she had a whole court of them at her disposal.
Herald’s whistling was barely audible by the time Kallia reached the other end of the store where Vain waited, tapping her fingers against an oval mirror framed in copper swirls. Not the least bit surprised Kallia had come.
“Closer,” she said, shifting so that both their silhouettes dominated the frame. “One thing most people don’t understand about dueling, same with magic, is that all the power in the world won’t make you the best fighter. It’s how you use it—for yourself, against the other—that makes you powerful.”
When she pressed at one of the swirls of the frame, their forms disappeared from the reflection. As did the empty store, the rows of mirrors across the walls behind them. All of it, swept under the darkness, until the hints of an image rose from it.
“They rarely showed this to the court. The angle was off.” Vain traced her fingertip along the frame, clearing the glass’s focus. “It’s a miracle there were some mirrors in the paneling of the theater to pick this up.”
Kallia blinked as glimmers of a bright stage solidified in the reflection, taken from the viewpoint of the mezzanine above while a show went on.
On stage, a performer in an ink-blue dress sipped from a glass of water, before promptly smashing it into the ground.
A wall of fire grew behind her as music rose from the aisles where circus performers slowly streamed in.
Her first act in Spectaculore.
This performer, kicking down the stool across the stage, was her.
Unlike with the black brass knuckles, the memory didn’t assault her with sensation. Just a strange awareness from watching a moment she recalled well, playing out through a different lens. The longing to go back to it all gripped between every bone.
She remembered that hush, before the Conquering Circus came in with their music. That joy, as they joined her.
And that power, like she held all the best cards in her hands.
Kallia had never felt more alive, more exhilarated, and more certain in that moment that she was exactly where she needed to be.
“There’s your misstep.”
The smile dropped at Vain’s discontented hum at the scene, watching as the performer in blue screamed before falling straight into the arms of her assistant below.
Aaros. The relief coursing through, just from seeing him, was overwhelming.
“It wasn’t a misstep,” she remarked as the shadowed audience began clapping. Her first proper moment of applause. “I remember the stage shook, as if there was a quake.”
“Devils. Like cats, innocently playing with their food.” Vain’s gaze lingered on the reflection, the standing ovation that followed. “Still, it’s no excuse. Imagine if that shirtless boy hadn’t been there to catch you. What would you have done, then?”
Kallia’s mind blanked. “I would’ve landed just fine if it came down to it,” she said. “You can’t judge me for something that didn’t happen. It’s irrelevant.”
“Not having a ready answer means you probably would’ve done nothing.”
The scene glowed with glorious applause that went on and on, but every part of her shook with fury. Despite the slip, it had been one of her proudest moments. One of her best memories of Glorian.
The headliner’s scrutiny continued, picking at it with venom.
“Look here, now.” Vain tapped against the frame so that the performance restarted at the beginning. “When you’re first walking out, look at how you linger a moment too long on your audience, as if pleased with yourself. You’re thinking of the applause instead of setting up the act. Yes, you’ve got the circus up your sleeve later, but you should…”
Kallia was gone before the next insult arrived.
What an absolute waste of time.
“Excuse me, where do you think you’re going?” Vain snapped from behind.
The nerve of her, to act so bothered.
“To actually practice,” Kallia shot back without turning or any care for the creaking mirrors she bumped into. “Because we clearly have different ideas about what that means.”
She was done reliving memories. Done looking into mirrors filled with pieces of her life all for the enjoyment of others. Performing that night had been one of her proudest moments. Still one of her best memories of Glorian, despite the slip.
If someone took glee in ripping it apart, she didn’t have to stand there and watch.
Kallia stormed out from the back of the shop, greeted by the sight of Herald sitting casually atop the counter and clapping.
“You deserve exemplary marks for that lesson.” He saluted as she passed. “Well done.”
“Oh, shut up, Herald,” came a sniping response from afar.
A bell shook above her head as Kallia burst through the front door. The stillness of the shop was lost in the clamor of the streets. From the darkness of frames and glass, there was movement. Lights. Music. Oddly scented smoke pouring through—
“What happened in there?”
For once, Kallia knew the hand at her elbow without flinging her fist behind out of habit. For her and Jack, that was progress.
Her blood still boiled as she inhaled deeply. As if that did anything to calm her. “Do you know how to duel?”
As if knowing even the slightest annoyance could set her off, Jack gently pulled her back from the curb, facing her to him. “I never dueled myself, but I watched.” His face became unreadable. “They can get pretty rough.”
“So I’ve gathered.” Not like Vain’s method would’ve prepared her for any of that. “Will you show me, then?”
“You should really back out.”
Kallia was a breath away from tearing out her hair. “I don’t exactly have that option.” Throwing off his hand, she stepped back. “Unless I want to look completely spineless.”
“You could end up spineless if you go forward with it,” he said, his jaw set. “It might be easier if I make those idiots—”
“Don’t you dare.” The thought of Jack fighting that battle sent premature embarrassment burning through her already. It was bad enough the bodyguard act wasn’t entirely an act. That she needed him far more than she was willing to admit.
Even worse was knowing that long ago, Jack would’ve happily encouraged her to take on the challenge, back when she was the headliner. The star of Hellfire House. Every night, he’d witnessed her at her most powerful, her most intimidating every time she descended on that chandelier and made the crowd below beg for more.
That magician felt like a stranger now. A costume that no longer fit, when it had been her only scrap of clothing.
“Stop giving me excuses.” Kallia gritted her teeth to keep from trembling. “Will you teach me or not?
“You actually want me to?”
Kallia stilled at his outburst.
Her heart, cold as stone.
She wasn’t at all pressed up against him, not even close. But their breaths still mirrored each other, rising and falling. Angry, confused.
Kallia, more so than anyone, at herself.
Every promise she’d made to herself slammed back into her. Jack was never her teacher; she knew magic before they even met. Hers was already a storm, long before he stepped into Hellfire House.
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All he did was show her the ways power could be more.
And he’d shattered that trust. For now, there was some hold to it, pieced together out of necessity. But trust in pieces would always be easier to break again.
She’d nearly forgotten. Somehow he’d remembered.
“You’re right.” Kallia blinked, her breaths slowing. “Never mind.”
The awkward tension to the air now drained all the fury out of her, until she was empty. Uncomfortably hollow.
“What happened in there?” Jack asked, more gingerly now. Trying again.
It was a nice attempt. Somehow, though he’d barely left her side all day, they hadn’t been able to really speak one word to another. A true one, at least. Without masks or gritted smiles hiding insults behind compliments.
As if Kallia needed any more reason to feel foolish.
All she wanted, desperately, was a friend. Someone to confide in without fearing where the secret would go, someone to lean on in a way that felt nothing like weakness.
She longed for her friends. For Aaros and Canary, all of the Conquering Circus. Hell, she’d take Ira.
And Demarco.
If he were here, she knew exactly what he would do.
He would simply hold her hand, take her on a walk, and ask her to tell him everything.
“Kallia?” Jack’s eyes grew more concerned, probably from whatever flickered over her expression. He was no friend. That word would never fit him in the way she knew it. But he was somehow still there, the only one from her life before at her side. Even when she’d given him every reason not to be. Even when he could leave whenever he wanted to, he chose to stay.
“What’s wrong?” he pressed.
“The mortal had a little diva fit and ran away, that’s what’s wrong.”
Vain stood behind them, hip cocked. Arms crossed. Kallia almost sprang away from Jack, but there was more than enough distance between them. Nothing compromising about their position in the slightest.
“Did you do something to her in there?” Jack’s voice hardened as he stepped toward Vain. “She won’t tell me—”
“Relax, club keeper. It was just a little spat,” Vain muttered to diffuse the tension. Or just Jack’s wrath. She seemed softer now, in the way only ice could be. “I lost my temper, she lost hers. She could’ve slapped me but stormed off in a huff instead, and I stopped myself from throwing a mirror at her head. That’s what I call growth.”
“Is that supposed to be some kind of apology?” A laugh nearly loosed from Kallia. Were it not for the triangles on full display across Vain’s fingers, the girl wouldn’t be standing here now. She would’ve gleefully left without a word, only to show up later at the duel in the front row, popcorn in hand.
Though she still showed up, just as Kallia stayed. That had to count for something.
“What do I have to be sorry for, hurting your feelings?” The venom returned in the headliner’s smile. “But if you want to train, then we will train. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
* * *
The skies were still dark with devils as the day stretched on.
Most would consider it an omen. Kallia certainly did. Every time she glanced up, reaching for a glimmer of afternoon light, there was none. A never-ending night.
Just another normal day for the people of the city, swaying or bobbing across the colorful streets. When Kallia had first arrived then, she barely took anything in, all the ways this illusion Glorian compared to the ordinary one she knew.
There was comfort in how little they resembled each other on the surface. Turning down familiar paths or pausing at street corners that were not rife with sad memories. No ghosts, only wonderment.
One sideways glimpse of Jack’s face told how he felt the opposite.
“Hurry up.” Vain groaned every time they slowed behind her. “If you lose me, you lose me.”
Despite the threat, Vain continued hurriedly pointing out different areas of the city as if out of habit.
Deeper into the flashing labyrinth of this Glorian, it became even more sumptuous as a feast. The names etched in Kallia’s mind, the folds named after the old families, who wore new titles now. Instead of the Fravardi Fold, there vibrant fashion spas and style houses appeared busy as beehives from all the magicians walking in and out, all around, in all manner of outrageous clothing. Dresses with fabric that floated over bodies like smoke, slick suits with the fronts that closed at a collection of long beastly teeth instead of buttons.
In the ashes of the Vierra Fold rose the sparkling marvel houses. An impossible amount of bakeries and smoking food dens lined the sidewalks, all serving up dishes and flavors to appeal to every single taste bud of the tongue. One bar boasted that they served cocktails of dreams mixed to the drinker’s liking, while another poured nightmares for those seeking more of a thrill with their spirits.
The Alastor Fold, of course, was revered as the hub of entertainment.
Leaving one unclaimed, of which Kallia knew the name. It didn’t surprise her with so much the city had to offer; all of the sectors bled into one another. So much so that the Ranza Fold had become a corner primarily absorbed by the marvel and style houses.
They couldn’t do away with its main house, though. They hadn’t throughout the other folds. And as soon as Vain began leading them down one specific sidewalk, Kallia’s nerves hummed with anticipation.
The Ranza Estate.
Her body knew this route, all the steps it took to get there.
Like in the Glorian she knew, the path to the Ranza Estate quieted, riddled more with windswept leaves than people milling about. In her mind, she could already see the house within reach. It would probably wear a different color, no doubt, but the familiar silhouette would be as good as seeing an old friend. She could easily fill in the bright tiled roof. The sun-kissed exterior, the grand shape of—
Kallia’s eyes flew open as she tripped.
The charred hunk of wood caught her foot and she skittered forward, where more scorched marks and ash lay.
Pulse thudding, she squinted out into the distance.
And her heart sank.
All that was left was crushed rubble and charred wood, half-formed crumbling walls and collapsed chunks of roof, split beams cloaked in tattered curtains, leaning high over the ground. A few rooms were barely left standing, roofless and bare. A building so beyond recognition, it bore more resemblance to a burnt skeleton than a home.
Stunned, Kallia stepped over a ravaged chunk of wall that would’ve formed the main entry hall.
She had no words left. For any of this.
“What happened here?” Jack asked, walking out from under one of the split beams.
“You mean you don’t feel right at home?” The wall beneath Vain’s feet crumbled as she hopped to the ground. “Your makers made this happen. This dump’s always been like this since even before I got here.”
Jack tracked the headliner circling him. “I thought the deal was that devils weren’t allowed in the city.”
“Your devil brethren are what allow the city to be in the first place. We’re all well aware of what they can do outside of the gates.” Vain threw her hands out and gave a little twirl. “This is the fun little reminder of what they could do inside.”
What for? It made no sense to threaten those within this Glorian. Everyone seemed content with their way of life. A cutthroat hierarchy formed the social structure, but those were small dramas and petty rivalries. Nothing worth the devils’ punishment.
“I know, it’s an ugly little scorch mark, isn’t it?” The headliner paused beneath a charred entryway where no door stood. “Not sure what even used to be here, but no amount of glamor or magic can revive it. So it shall remain hopelessly ugly forever.”
Kallia felt her jaw tick. “Why did you bring us here, then?”
“Nobody ever really ventures through these parts anymore.” Vain walked toward her, kicking all the rubble and debris in her way. “Which makes i
t the perfect place to practice where no one will walk by and catch secondhand embarrassment from your dueling.”
It was like building an immunity to a poison with her. Her insults inflicted no pain for Kallia. Not like seeing the Ranza Estate in such a state. It had been neglected on the true side, too, until she and Demarco had begun spending their days within it.
And now, there were only bones. Some more formed, but all bones nonetheless.
“Does he really need to be here?” Vain padded alongside Kallia, nodding for her to follow out back. Clearer grounds awaited them, conveniently far from view of the street.
“He stays.” Without looking, Kallia knew Jack trailed behind. Just as Kallia knew how uneasy he made Vain. Despite their temporary truce, the headliner could just as simply throw her to the wolves once her back was turned. “Unless you have stage fright.”
Vain growled. “Don’t move,” she ordered, striding a few steps farther so that they stood across from each other. “I have two rules when it comes to dueling illusions. What do you think the first is?”
It felt like a trick question demanding a headliner’s answer. “Win?”
She shook her head and glanced down, dragging her foot along the dirt in a large circle around her. “First rule is there are rules, and you need to know them well.”
Once she completed the circle, Kallia found the same shape surrounding her, perfectly mirroring the one across.
“You do not leave your space for whatever reason. Stay in your circle, or you lose by default.” Vain flicked a finger upward, sending a burnt hunk of wood floating between them. “And this is our anchor.”
Kallia raised a brow but kept silent.
“It’s the object we transform and keep transforming into the illusions,” she went on. “A trick is always strongest if it’s grounded in something real, manipulated rather than conjured out of nothing.”
Suddenly, the burnt wood broke apart in midair—each hovering piece, slowly reflamed into spikes of fire at the drumming of Vain’s fingers. The searing concentration in her eyes as she thrust her hands forward without warning.
Kallia froze.
Her heart sprinted, breath shortened.
When Night Breaks Page 23
