“This is a lot,” he says gently.
“What’s a Symric?” I blurt, surprised at my own question. I’ve been called that over and over but no one has explained it outright.
“Like I mentioned, your voice is addictive. The more people hear it, the more they’ll need to hear it. It’s as simple as that, really. You can’t stop it from working on anyone and you don’t need to do anything special to use the magic. Just like I’ll feel you if you touch me, I’ll get a dose of Symric magic if you sing.”
“I don’t understand. How? How am I… this? Can I get rid of it?”
He winces. “You’re born with it or you’re not; there’s no changing it. Symrics are actually something of a fairy tale because they’re so rare. Both parents need to have the same magic to pass it on, but half-fae aren’t commonplace. As quarter-fae, your children won’t have the same gift. Unless, perhaps, their father is a pure-blood, but I’m guessing you don’t know any fairies.”
A laugh cracks in my throat. I can’t help wondering if this has anything to do with why my parents left me in the tulips to die, but it only stirs more questions that I’m not ready to ask. “No,” I answer. “I can’t say as I do.”
Nik leans away and draws a deep breath. “Maybe I should’ve kept my trap shut, but you have a right to know. People may come after you again, to hurt you or to hear you, and you have a right to save yourself.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
The truth is like oil floating on water. It doesn’t work in the world I know and I’m not sure how to make it fit yet. Everything Walter said on the ship take on a new meaning. It’s no wonder my mother forbid me from singing. My mother. Does this mean she knows what I am? How? Why would she keep it a secret from me?
“Do you see that police officer over there?” Nik asks.
I glance around Nik’s shoulders, and my heart somersaults at the sight of the dark uniform with gleaming silver buttons and shield. “Yes.”
He takes my apple with slow, calculated movements. “I’m going to stay right here so if anyone asks, I can honestly say I didn’t see you approach him until it was too late.”
All otherworldly thoughts vanish. I wipe my hands on my skirt, my breath uneven. “What should I tell him?”
“The truth. Maybe try to leave me out of it as much as you can.” He shrugs. “I’ll lay low for awhile either way.”
“Thank you,” I say, breathless.
He blushes. “Go on now. Fly away home, Canary.”
I jump up from our seat along the river and rush down the sidewalk where the officer now faces the street. I grip his arm, and he jolts beneath the touch. “Help,” I wheeze.
His eyes widen. “Are you all right, miss?”
My ears ring. Finally! “I need to get home. To Holland.”
He blinks twice. “Well, if you head down to—”
“No, no.” I swallow hard. My adrenaline pumps too furiously to find the right words in English. “I was…brought here by someone.” I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heart to calm down. “Walter Ackerman. He brought me here to sing for—”
“Miss.” He pries my hand off his arm. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”
“But he—”
“I understand. You came hoping for your big break in showbiz, and now this Walter Ackerman fella has left you high and dry.”
“But he kidnapped me. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”
“Hey, now,” he scowls. “Don’t go accusing someone of something serious like that just to get yourself a ticket home.”
My jaw drops. “I’m not.”
“I’ve heard all the excuses, Miss. You look rather well taken care of, so I suggest you keep doing what you’re doing, and the homesickness will subside in time.”
“I—”
“Enough,” he snaps. Two children race down the street, looking over their shoulders guiltily, and the officer snatches the opportunity to chase after them, blowing his whistle.
I stare after him, my hope shrinking with every millimeter he puts between us. The foreign streets seem to narrow, the crowd swelling, and the strange scent of the city nearly bowls me over. I stagger back a step into Nik’s side.
“Canary?”
“He…” My tongue feels numb. “He didn’t believe me.”
Nik is quiet for a long moment. Or maybe a short one. “You can use the theater phone tomorrow.”
“Right.” I sway on my feet, and he offers me a hand. “The phone.”
“Come on. We don’t want Augustine thinking you changed your mind and ran for the hills.”
I take his hand, if for no other reason than to steady myself. It’s warm and sturdy in mine. Kind. Maybe the boy next to me is one of the people I shouldn’t trust, but I’m not sure how to tell the difference, not in this place. So, right or wrong, I choose to believe in Nik and his promise to help.
Wind whistles across the empty field, its icy tendrils grabbing at my ankles. Rows of sheets whip back and forth on the clothesline, warning me. Danger, they scream. Run. But I can’t leave them to the elements. I fight against the heavy blast, forcing myself forward, and grab the line. I pluck off a pin, then another and another. The fabric rips from my hands, flying over me like a ghost.
I turn to follow and my head bumps into a man’s chest. I laugh. “Christian, I thought you’d be halfway home by now.”
“Who’s Christian?” the man asks.
I look up into a pair of solid black eyes. Walter. His lips curl into a snarl. I try to scream but his hand smashes over my mouth.
“Vaudeville needs you.”
I bite down until I taste blood. When he lets go I try running but the wind comes at me from every direction, holding me in place. Mud sucks my feet into the ground and the harder I pull, the more I sink. A scream rips from my throat.
“Lina.” The voice is different. Distant. “Lina!”
I blink and a white tin ceiling replaces the night sky. “Nik?” I croak as a pair of wide green eyes hover over me. It was a dream. Just a dream. My head thuds back onto the pillow, the hint of blood lingering from where I must’ve bitten my tongue. “What are you doing in here?”
He looks down at me with a creased brow. “You were having a bad dream.”
“I know.” I rub my eyes, trying to erase the image of Walter. Every night on the ship was filled with similar nightmares. I got a short break from them here, probably because I was unconscious instead of asleep, but apparently my respite is over. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Nik slides from my bed and brushes lint off his blue shirt. “You didn’t. Everyone’s downstairs eating breakfast.”
I reach for the curtain, my hand still shaking. “What time is it?”
“Nearly seven. Augustine wants to start rehearsal early so you and I have extra time to work on our act.”
I sit up and tuck the sheet under my arms. He’s respectfully not looking below my face but being alone with a man in my room while only in a slip is still unnerving. “Of course she does,” I grumble. I’m still not sure I’ll be able to do it. I can’t sing in front of one person, let alone an entire audience. Maybe if I pretend everyone in front of me is my mother or Christian, I’ll remember why I’m doing this. I have to try anyway. “I’ll be right there.”
When Nik leaves, I stretch across the bed. My heart races from the nightmare and my fingers tingle. I’m safe. Walter’s gone. Augustine’s given me shelter. Christian will send help soon. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. If I want it to stay that way, I have to get up, go downstairs and sing.
There. A new goal. I’ll take it one step at a time.
I can and I will.
By the time I’ve repeated those words a thousand times, I’m standing outside the dining room, staring at the glass knob, questioning my new mantra. It sounds good, but not realistic. If a few shows will earn me enough money to get home, no one here would be pinching pennies, especially not the owner. No one specified how long the tro
upe is staying in New York. Maybe they’ll be here six months; maybe they’ll be here three weeks. If I can reach Christian on the phone at the theater today, I’ll be long gone before either.
A blend of voices beat on the other side of the door. I swallow my doubts and step into the dining room. The chatter cuts off and I fight the urge to step back out. Sixteen people, ranging from children to middle-aged, pale skin to dark, are crammed around a long rectangular table. A chandelier hangs directly over the table with white glass cones on each arm. Bowls of boiled eggs and brown porridge sit on the off-white cotton tablecloth.
“Good morning,” I say when everyone remains silent.
Nik places a platter of small sausages down and motions to the empty chair across from him. No one speaks; they hardly move while I inch between the wall and chairs. The click of my new shoes fills the silence. I’m an outsider here and I took Irena away from them. Her son they may not care about, but they liked his mother. Jackie called her sweet. Of course, they hate me. I would hate me, too.
Finally I squeeze into the seat between Jackie and a bald man in a striped dress shirt. To sit, I have to climb over the seat of the chair and pull it forward, wedging myself between them. Jackie wears a headpiece of jewels and feathers that takes up nearly half the side of her head. “Hi,” I say, glad to be next to at least one person I know.
“Hello,” she says. All trace of her bubbly personality is gone as she pokes at her breakfast with a spoon.
The short exchange triggers a change in the room. Someone asks for the salt and silverware clinks against plates as eating resumes, but no one looks in my direction. I glance at Nik and he fakes a cough. Still no one speaks.
“Everyone, this is Lina,” Nik says loudly after a long, uncomfortable silence. “Lina, this is everyone. Ben, Pearl, and their twins—Eleanor and Gilly,” he motions to a young couple sitting at the end of the table beside two children, about seven years old, with curly blond mops of hair. “You know Jackie. That’s Tommy next to you. Then Pedro, Will, James, Gayle, Mitch, Eddie, Etta, and Theresa.” Theresa stares daggers at me again while everyone else seems nice enough, if disinterested. It’s a handsome group of people. “If you feel anything under the table, it’s Chester.”
There’s a boy under the table? Who feeds people under the table? Lunatics, that’s who. I lift the tablecloth and gasp. A small yellow dog with wiry hair stares up at me with his tongue dangling, and I reach down to scratch his head.
“It’s nice to meet everyone,” I say. Half of their names are already lost to me, the rest I’m probably remembering wrong.
Silence.
“Eat something.” Nik tosses a boiled egg across the table. By some miracle, I catch it before it smacks me in the face. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us and won’t eat again until tonight.”
“Long is an understatement. Why not move us into the theater with these hours?” Theresa scoffs. “Our acts better not suffer because you need extra rehearsal time.”
Nik inhales sharply. “If you have a problem, take it up with Madam Augustine.”
“All I’m saying is the rest of us have to practice too.” She motions to the group with a hand full of rings. “I don’t want to spend every second in the back room, especially not if we’re kept there late.”
“Theresa,” Jackie says quietly. “Our acts are established and they have to start from scratch. We’re going early to make sure everyone gets time.”
“We’re going early to watch this thing practice while we sit on our thumbs,” she snaps. “As if she needs to practice at all. The audience will be addicted no matter how bad she is.”
Nik slams his palms on the table and I wince. The air thickens, making it hard to breathe. I’ve only known Nik a few days but he seems to have himself in check. Judging by the shocked look on everyone else’s face, they’re just as surprised by the outburst.
“We don’t need extra time,” Will says, backing Jackie up. “Our routines haven’t changed in months. They have five days. We’ve each got a slot on stage today and there’s plenty of room to practice in the back if you really need it.”
Theresa glowers, a storm brewing in her brown eyes. “You—”
Augustine steps into the room, banging her cane on the floor. “Keep your ungrateful trap shut, Theresa. We all know you’re an intolerant cow, but unless you want to find yourself out on your arse, you’ll put a lid on it. Special gifts aren’t a requirement here. There are plenty of dancers in the city and you’ll be hard-pressed to find another employer so understanding.” Augustine glares across the room, stealing a glimpse at Jackie before taking a seat at the head of the table. “Now, I hope you’re all as excited as I am for the show this weekend. I’ve got some wonderful things brewing. No, no.” She holds her hands up, warding off imaginary protests. “I won’t tell you. You’ll have to wait.”
Tommy snaps his fingers and points at Madam Augustine with a grin. “You’re a tease, Madam.”
She giggles like a school girl. “Don’t I know it? Now pass me the porridge.”
The chatter slowly starts again, building until I’m wrapped in one large whirl of voices. They’re either ignoring the tension or they’re so used to it, it doesn’t faze them anymore. For me, it’s still very real. Even Christian’s family hides their hatred behind social pleasantries in front of other people. I’m not sure how to process what just happened. I’ve gotten strange looks and heard whispers behind my back, but never such blatant resentment without reason.
“Canary?”
I look up from my empty, chipped plate, the boiled egg warm in my hand, to find the room empty except for us. “Are they all... like us?”
“Not everyone, but everyone knows. It would be hard to keep that kind of thing a secret here.”
“You aren’t worried they’ll tell someone?” This is a strange country, but I can’t imagine the truth would sit well. Historically, people kill for less.
“Ah.” Nik hesitates with his hands in his pockets. “No, not really. The twins can create illusions even though their parents have no magic, and they’ll never betray their kids. Everyone has a reason to stay quiet.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, if you’re not feeling up to practice, we can try tomorrow instead.”
“No.” I shake the cobwebs from my thoughts. If the act isn’t any good by the weekend, Augustine might change her mind and toss me out on the street. “We have to go. I don’t even know what song we’re doing.”
And I’m eager to test my voice. Despite Nik’s demonstration, I’m still not convinced I have magic. The cows that came to hear me sing that day and my mother’s no-singing rule tell me there must be something to the claim. Why wouldn’t my mother tell me the truth if she knew? Things make sense, though I’m not sure I want them to. Suddenly, I regret not practicing on my own before this moment. Could I have? If my voice is addicting, logically I would need to sing around someone to test it and then ask if they felt anything. Their answer can’t be considered proof though—they can maintain the lie.
I have so many questions that can’t be answered. Who are my biological parents? Who gave me this skill set? What does it mean? The cycle never stops circling my thoughts.
Nik comes around the table to sit in Tommy’s vacant chair. “What Theresa said… Don’t let it get to you. The only thing she’s ever wanted is to be a star but she doesn’t have the spark or the gifts you do. Unfortunately, she does have a talent for making everyone’s life miserable if she doesn’t get her way.”
“Are you siding with her?” If the only reason she hates me is because I can sing, I don’t understand why she’s so upset. I’ll be gone before I can steal the show.
“No, of course not. I can’t stand her but we have to pick our battles.” He sighs and holds his hands up. “You and I, we both want something much bigger than this show. There are greater things waiting out there, but right now, we’re stuck here. This is a stepping-stone. Possibly the last one before we get to wh
ere we want to be. I know it’s hard but you can do this. We’ll stick together, yeah?”
“Just a stepping-stone,” I whisper to myself. A sharp, pointy one beneath already bleeding feet. “What is it you want, then? If it’s not this?”
He gives me a half smile. “There’s no time for that now. We have a lot to accomplish today.”
Nodding, I set the egg down and scoot my chair back.
“I am sorry, Canary. About everything.” He takes my hand and walks me from the dining room. “I’d do more for you if I could.”
I believe he would. “I know.”
“Then let’s go show that intolerant cow what a star looks like.” He tugs me onto the front porch, twirling me around.
I can’t help but laugh as my skirt floats out around my knees.
The lights aren’t on, but I can tell where the theater is between store fronts with peeling painted and boarded windows. Bulky white letters spelling out The Den are surrounded by large bulbs. Bigger lights outline the building and even more under the canopy facing the street. It must look like a magical beacon at night, drawing people in like bees to nectar.
“It’s just a small theater,” Ben says as he pulls up in front of it and pulls the break. “It’s not even in the theater district, but maybe one day, huh?”
Maybe someday they will be somewhere larger, but I won’t. This is plenty big for my taste. Too big. Hundreds of people must fit inside. My gut rolls at the thought of singing in front of so many. What if I can’t pull it off? What if they hate me and I’m booed off stage?
Nik holds the door open for me. “You coming, Canary?”
I tear my gaze away from the lights in time to see the rest of the troupe disappear down a side alley. I scramble from the car and follow Nik through a barred door at the back. In the distance, a light glows, calling me. Nik places a hand on my back and guides me toward it. The troupe is silhouetted in front of me, practically running, and my adrenaline surges. By the time we emerge in a large dusty area, I’m sure I’ll faint again. I really should have eaten but with my luck, my nerves would’ve brought everything back up anyway.
When Stars Are Bright Page 10
