all it was better to stay out of the spotlight. And yet here she was now, standing beneath a very literal spotlight. She wanted to pull her hood low over her face, but, of course, her hood wasn’t there. She felt exposed. Vulnerable.
Smile, she told herself.
Even she had to admit that the display they’d put together was impressive. It’d been her idea to decorate their masquerade with all the amazing things throughout history that no longer existed. All this time she and Roman had been looting the past so that they might dazzle the people of this city with what they’d managed to bring back.
“It’s important to open a con with a show of strength,” she’d explained to Roman, in the beginning. “People naturally trust the rich and powerful. If we want to bring them over to our side, we’ll need to do something impressive.”
“But this isn’t a con,” Roman had told her in return. “We really do want to fix the city.”
It might not have been a con in the strictest sense of the word but, structurally, it was similar enough. First, they created a need, and then they made it clear that they were the only ones who could fill it.
It had taken the better part of a year to plant the seeds. And, now, everything was finally ready.
The sound of applause crashed over her, and then Roman was taking her hand, beaming. She snapped back to attention just in time to hear him finish the speech they’d prepared together.
“Those of you who’ve lived here long enough will remember that Seattle was broken long before the mega-quake flooded the city. The 2073 earthquake had already wiped out our power, ruined our homes, and killed thousands. Some of us lost everything.”
The crowd fell silent, their attention rapt.
Roman went on. “I was just a child when the earthquake of 2073 destroyed my family’s home and killed my parents. Like many of you, I was forced to take refuge in an emergency pop-up tent on the grounds of the old university while the people in power promised me that they had things under control.”
Dorothy was quiet, listening. She’d heard about the pop-up shelters that people had once called Tent City. It was in those shelters that the Black Cirkus had started.
“But we were lied to,” Roman continued. “People died waiting for much-needed medication, and food, and electricity that was never restored. As of tonight, there are new people in power. And we’re here to tell you that it’s time to rebuild our city.”
The crowd reached a fever pitch, their roar thunderous. Roman had to raise his voice to be heard over the cheers. “Tomorrow morning, the Black Cirkus will go back in time, to the year 2073, to the days just before the earthquake took out the solar grids in the University District. We’re going to take those grids back and bring them here, now. After five years of darkness, we’re going to restore electricity to New Seattle!”
Dorothy felt a grin split her face as she looked out over the ecstatic crowd. They were cheering for them.
For her.
She turned to smile at Roman, but his eyes had landed on something at the far end of the room, and his grin had gone stiff.
Dorothy followed his gaze to a boy with dusty-blond hair. He wore a charcoal-gray suit and black tie, but she could easily imagine him in a leather jacket and white T-shirt, skin slightly reddened from the sun.
She felt everything inside of her go still as the boy lifted a hand to remove the black mask covering his face—
And then it was Ash staring back at her, his expression stormy. His eyebrows were low on his forehead, his gold eyes blazing. The muscles in his jaw stood out in sharp focus.
Dorothy swallowed. She knew what he saw when he looked at her: Quinn Fox, the monster, the villain.
But she saw the boy hunched over the airplane in the clearing behind a church. She saw the boy who’d kissed her in a time machine.
Her lips burned where they’d long ago brushed against his, and her palms felt suddenly clammy. What was she doing? Why was she standing here? Why hadn’t she gone to him?
She was staring. She knew she should stop, but she couldn’t turn her head. It was like fighting gravity.
She heard herself mutter, “Excuse me.”
And then she was walking off the stage, calmly, like this had been planned, her head held high. There was a door just behind the