When Night Breaks

by Janella Angeles

  But it was familiar.

  “You don’t have to turn away, Demarco,” Kallia called behind him. “It’s not like I’m naked. I’m only going to—”

  He spun around, and in two large steps, stood in front of her. Bare feet and the hint of smooth calves peeked out from the sheer fall of her skirt. Every detail, just as he remembered from their days in the Ranza Estate.

  But this was not that place. They were in the middle of a room full of mirrors, and when he forced himself to look up, he was alone in all of them.

  “You’re staring.” With a knowing smile, Kallia kicked a bucket of water across the floor.

  The water spread between them, touching the soles of his bronze-edged shoes.

  So real, even if the mirrors could not see.

  Kallia watched him intently, waiting for something as her eyes dropped to his lips for a second.

  How had he not known, then?

  Daron took a step toward her, playing along. “You’re distracting,” came his murmured response, as he lowered his hand to her hip. Letting it hover, when all he wanted was to touch her. To feel if the heat coming off her was real, or imagined.

  “Demarco, what are you doing?”

  Reality snapped back to him just as Herald walked in, perplexed.

  Daron’s hand still hovered in the air. “Nothing.”

  The briefest slice of suspicion crossed Herald’s eyes, before mirth found its way back. “All right, if you say so, mortal. Now, stop admiring yourself in the mirror or else we’re going to be far more than fashionably late.”

  Daron had been stuck in this shop for too long. It was clearly turning his head inside out. No vision of Kallia had ever been so vivid. So close, so real.

  Not real. Just a memory.

  “Come on, no frowning.” Herald clapped him on the back. “I’m delivering you to your showgirl, after all. Not to your death.”

  30

  Kallia knew she was in trouble once she entered the ballroom and found ghosts at every corner. She saw Lottie behind one mask, and Erasmus Rayne grabbing a wandering tray of drinks. The performers descending from the ceiling on golden silks became the Conquering Circus—and for a moment, she paused at the flash of Demarco somewhere in the crowd.

  They were scattered throughout the party like a sea of ghosts and guests. Kallia drifted alone after Vain found herself stuck in conversation with a boisterous group of champagne-yielding magicians. She casually waved Kallia off with a teasing giggle and an icy nod. Focus.

  Kallia swallowed hard, trying.

  She had a role to play. And a face to find, if he decided to show up.

  The Court of Mirrors had been transformed into a fever dream, much more extravagant than the last night of Spectaculore, but still a sight to behold. Everyone crossed the room in lush gowns and suits, more reminiscent of artwork than clothing, only the best the style houses had to offer. Many wore the most elaborate masks of animals and creatures not even Kallia could name, which made the ghosts more tolerable. All in a variety of costume props and designs sealed to faces, already lost in the revelry of tonight.

  A spectacular night to remember, and the perfect stage for disaster.

  Music swelled from every corner of the party as guests arrived and spread throughout the room for prime views of the festivities. From dueling headliners to style houses battling with their best looks, tonight’s events bled together like a mess of colors in Kallia’s mind. At best, she remembered the first few listed in the itinerary, one of which already kicked off the night in the form of a charmed dance floor that was quickly filling up.

  As a light mist swirled between the dancers’ feet, Kallia was unsure if that or the ground itself commanded their steps. They moved in such clean, orderly rows, pairs of guests facing each other before drawing dangerously close as one.

  The song unfurled in a slow, steady stream of strings, rising in intensity with the steps. Partners lifted and circled as hands touched and legs grazed. The collection of movements seemed to change at every turn of the song, yet no one ever missed a beat or faltered out of line.

  A game with no end as long as the music had no end.

  Pacing along the sides, Kallia observed as guests fell prey to the floor at the experimental tap of their heel. Laughter rang over those voicing their wishes to stop, even louder as their pleas went unsatisfied. Once friends began pushing friends over the edges, Kallia drew back before—

  A movement caught her eye.

  So subtle, it would’ve slipped her notice were it not so familiar. And so strange to see, on an absolute stranger.

  Along the edges stood an illusion servant from the Alastor Place. The crisp black-and-white uniforms were customary for Roth’s waitstaff. And the fresh face of the young gentleman, blank as a canvas, was a customary feature for an illusion serving in his house. But while numerous servants wandered around with trays of drink and food, this one oversaw the dance floor. He could’ve been waiting on behalf of a guest nearby for all she knew, but it became clearer as the illusion brushed his knuckles with his thumb again.

  The bastard thought he was tricky.

  With his back still turned, Kallia moved in on the illusion. She hoped she was right, and knew she was as she pushed through the crowd. The chaos of the ball provided her all the cover she needed to sneak up on him for the first time in her life.

  “Hello, Jack,” she said close to his ear, satisfied by the slight hike in his shoulders.

  The freckled face that turned toward her in no way resembled Jack’s, but it carried shock similarly. Especially when outsmarted. “How did you—”

  She answered by pushing him out onto the dance floor.

  The music swept into her as her feet touched the ground after him. As if she’d practiced these movements for years, her body sang at the steps it was given. It was the soft warm pull of her leg forward, one after the other, sauntering toward Jack to the rhythm’s lure.

  One moment he looked down as the illusion before looking up with the face she knew. Seamless as a mask change. Out on the floor, it barely caused a stir with everyone lost in the dance. Kallia straightened almost instantly as they touched palms and circled slowly. After some time away, she found his noble eyes even more piercing as they regarded her now, deeply unamused.

  “Was this really necessary?” he grumbled.

  “What about pretending to be someone else?” Kallia countered at the switch of hands. “If you go through such ridiculous lengths to hide, I have to act fast.”

  “You do know I can walk off this floor any time I want.” He chuckled when they drew apart, then back together. “I don’t have to play along. Unlike you.”

  Kallia hadn’t considered that. If devils could barely hold him, a dance floor certainly couldn’t. “Then why are you still dancing with me?”

  “Why did you leave the invitation on the roof?”

  His voice struck a nerve, as if he’d asked it again and again, and still couldn’t fathom why. It was an amusing sight: the magician who usually held all the answers, now in the dark.

  She let him sit in it, for once. Just long enough to enjoy watching the question steep deeper in him as he bowed to one knee across from her, while she made her way to him at the song’s whispered commands.

  Circle him.

  Trail your fingers across his shoulders.

  As Kallia did, his back jerked in reaction. The muscles across his shoulders bunched as her fingers dragged across. “Haven’t seen you in quite a while, Jack.” Reaching one end, she started again on the other shoulder. “You’re a horrible bodyguard.”

  A low laugh shook from him. “I was under the impression you no longer needed one. Your new group is more than capable, and I’m sure they don’t mind my absence.”

  There was no further confirmation needed. Vain clearly led the charge with her dislike of Jack, though Malice and Ruthless never disagreed. No one understood their hesitation better than Kallia, but hesitation would hold them back if they igno
red opportunity. Especially the one right beneath her fingertips.

  “What’s the point of being absent then?” she said, touching her chin to her shoulder as the song called for. “Why are you still here?”

  In a snap, she was spun around hard until her back hit his chest.

  “You tell me.” His breath shook against her ear. His entire body, completely surrounding hers like a caged embrace. “I don’t even know anymore.”

  She tensed. It had been so long since they’d been close like this, she almost felt dizzy from the force of the hold. The air was too stifling, too hot to even breathe; she wondered why he stayed. If he could defy the rules and pull away whenever he pleased, he could very well leave at any time.

  Yet he stayed.

  “You could help us.” Her pulse thudded as she angled her head sideways. “We need help, and with someone like you on—”

  In a single move, he twisted her to face him. Nearly brow to brow, breath against breath. So close, it was impossible to focus on anything other than what her gaze landed on first.

  The pressed line of his lips broke in a cruel scoff. “Someone like me? What the hell have you gotten into to need help from someone like me?”

  “The only way to actually stop the gate. And get rid of Roth.” Her jaw clenched when he chuckled again. “There are plans in place, and one staged to go off some time tonight to cut—”

  “You can’t get rid of a magician with devils on his side, Kallia.” Jack dropped his hands to her waist, squaring her with a look. “And on top of that, I didn’t come here to help some headliners tear down this city so they can finally sit on the throne.”

  “It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, all things considered.” He could see so clearly through the Diamond Rings in just a few choice words, but his certainty regarding Roth chilled her. “But there’s so much more to it than that.”

  It meant saving everyone she loved, saving both sides.

  And saving her from failing to break a gate that would break her first.

  “So much risk, you mean,” Jack corrected. “If there are traitors in his ranks, Roth will find out. When he does, and if I entertain even a second of this madness, we all know who everyone would be throwing to the flames first.”

  “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

  Kallia forgot the music entirely. She forgot that his hands were around her waist, that they were dancing, when the line blurted out of her.

  What surprised her most was the truth of it; the viciousness, too. No matter what the Diamond Rings believed, Jack’s help and his powers were too invaluable to ignore on the other side. Strategy would agree, and so would they.

  But if someone was to ever deliver any punishing blow to Jack, it would be Kallia alone. And she’d need no help in doing so.

  As if he could guess her thoughts exactly, his grin twisted to the side. “You’d be the only one, then.”

  She should’ve anticipated the lift from the squeeze at her waist.

  Rising, Kallia took off from the ground, pressing her hands at Jack’s shoulders for purchase.

  And for a moment, she was weightless.

  Soaring.

  Not quite as high as the Diamond Rings took her, but the height took her back to a place before. She smelled the cold wooden floors of the practice room in Hellfire House, the slight chill that never lasted long whenever she moved.

  She’d forgotten how memories were supposed to work when they haunted her everywhere. When remembered, they rose to the surface, unbidden, with small floating details. She’d often preferred practicing alone, but never turned Jack away in those rare times he’d stop for a moment to watch.

  It was now that she realized it was the only time she ever willingly put herself in someone else’s hands. Her entire self.

  And not once had Jack dropped her. Not once had he ever gripped her hard enough to bruise.

  He’d always held her with a gentleness that seemed stolen from a stranger. Not the master of Hellfire House or this servant to the Alastors, but someone she could trust when it was just like this.

  Eventually the world came back as her feet returned to the ground.

  The chatter of the party, the colors swirling around her, the music still guiding their movements.

  And Jack. His hands were resting at his sides, thumb already pressed at the knuckles. If he remembered something as well, she couldn’t tell. His expression was unreadable. Always unreadable when deep in thought.

  “A lot of people could get hurt tonight,” Kallia whispered. “Stay, and you could—”

  “Become a Diamond Ring?” He cocked his head. “This city isn’t worth saving, Kallia. It’s best to let it burn.”

  “But don’t you want to get rid of Roth?” she pressed. “You of all people should want him gone.”

  The song softened to a pause, with a resounding beat to begin the next round. Another chance to convince Jack.

  When she bent toward her partner, there was only empty space.

  Biting out a curse, she spotted Jack making his way off the floor. He was hard to miss, as he speared straight through rows of dancing guests without any collisions. Not held by the rules like the rest of them.

  31

  This Glorian of the other side was opposite to the one Daron knew in every way possible.

  Not only were the streets packed to the sidewalks, they were alive. Every corner, performing magicians held court over crowds moving with the current. Every cobblestone, a different color. And those who walked upon them carried onward like a parade of dreams and nightmares hidden behind masks. After looking at the emptiness of mirrors for so long, the sudden dizziness of it all overwhelmed Daron. It wasn’t long before his sight adjusted to the runaway chaos of this show, devouring every part of it. The fast-moving nature of this bizarre and beautiful world.

  Once he got his bearings on the ride over, it was clear Daron’s attire was far more subtle in comparison to the rest. Though he had to admit, he was grateful to Herald for selecting the outfit he did. After passing all of the towering top hats built like houses with windows, to the boots stacked with heels so high guests kept falling over others like chopped trees—Daron couldn’t be more relieved to simply fit through the door as they disembarked from their carriage.

  The air was hot with revelry, filled with screams lost in laughter and the ever-present melody pounding distantly along the breeze.

  Head tipped back, Herald inhaled deeply as though standing before a sumptuous feast. “Ah. Love when the world feels wild as war,” he said, grabbing Daron’s arm before the crowd tore them apart. “There’s always something in the air on the first night of anything.”

  Daron recalled the first night on any of his past tours when he’d performed with Eva, or the first night of Spectaculore even. There was a strange energy to them, an undercurrent of magic that couldn’t be contained.

  Most times for Daron, it was nervousness lighting the spark. He could never seem to shake it, no matter how often he stepped on the stage. That same force hit him when he looked up from the lit cobblestones, and found the Alastor Place staring back.

  “Close your mouth.” Herald elbowed him. “You’re not fooling anyone if you keep gawking like a fish.”

  Daron elbowed back just as hard but gritted his teeth to keep his jaw shut all the same.

  The thick current of guests moving along slowly made their way through the front doors. The Alastor Place gleamed under a darker light, not quite the same way it had on the last show of Spectaculore. Rather than triumph, there was an air of conquering. Not opulence, but indulgence to the most luxurious degree.

  All along the hallway stood trees bearing green bottles instead of leaves, which passersby plucked to uncork or wield like scepters. The metal vines hugging the walls held candles overhead, lifting just out of reach when drunken guests tried touching the silver flames for a laugh.

  Like a museum of marvels and delights, everywhere he turned was designed to enchant. They could’ve be
en in line for hours, and Daron wouldn’t have noticed—were it not for the program suddenly shoved against his chest by the servant at the doors waving guests through.

  The Court of Mirrors.

  Like his jaw, Daron’s stomach dropped as he entered, grateful for the surrounding sea moving him forward. The ballroom on the true side had been grand after renovations, but the Court of Mirrors on the other side was magnificent. The mirrors dominating the walls glowed with the faint images of faces and scenes from elsewhere splashed over the surfaces as he’d seen in Herald’s shop. Though no one paid much attention to them when spectacle competed with spectacle from ceiling to floor: slow-spinning chandeliers throwing colors all over the room, descending rivers of golden silks rippling with dancers twisting down the lengths, regal magicians in the most ridiculous ballgowns strutting over tables with their glorious trains dripping over the edges.

  As promised, the first night of the Show of Hands did not disappoint. Much tamer than the drunken partying out in the streets, it was a sprawling feast of feats. In the center of it all, the dance floor starred as the main centerpiece of the ballroom. A stage in and of itself, overtaken by a sea of masked magicians moving seamless as waves to the slow steps of a dance. The melody, soft and dark as smoke, found him like memory.

  The last time he was on that floor, she’d taken it with him.

  “Interesting.”

  Herald’s narrowed gaze peered up from his opened program, the golden cover dominated by the inked symbol of a hand raising a grand draw of cards like the spread of a fan.

  Daron cleared his throat. “What?”

  “Never pegged you as a dancer, Demarco. The way you’re gazing at that floor…” He sighed. “I don’t even look at my own reflection that fondly.”

  “Shut up.” When Herald proceeded to snort louder, Daron smacked his program to the floor, earning a scowl in return.

  “I’m trying to help you strategize, lover boy. It’s going to be a packed event, according to the itinerary.” Herald bristled while crouching. “The music is charmed to guide the dance, so once that stops, it’s duels—anyone versus headliners. Then the style houses have a pastel promenade planned, Red Death Dukes perform their usual death-defying bit, food and drink as far as the eye can see after.” He released a deep breath. “Then it’s all downhill as the sloppiness hits…”