“You’re distracting,” he shot back, watching the soapy liquid spread. “You’ll slip if you’re not careful.”
“I’ve danced over worse.”
Barefooted over fiery sparks, heeled over sheens of ice. Dangling from the rim of a chandelier. No audience was ever content with seeing the same act for too long. They wanted constant excitement. A thrill wrapped in marvel and disaster.
“So you were a showgirl?”
Kallia hesitated. He should’ve known better than to ask such questions, but the charade of it seemed so trivial, all of a sudden. Their secrets, their rules. She didn’t want to play that game anymore. She hadn’t for a while.
“What, think it’s beneath you?” She slapped the mop over the water. “Everyone else does.”
It was a relief Demarco was not from these parts; there was no chance he would’ve frequented Hellfire House. Not that anyone from Glorian would’ve recognized her. Any patron who would’ve graced the club saw her as much a bird as Jack did. A small creature with no other tricks but to stay in her cage, and never fly away.
“When I was on the circuit, I crossed paths with many showgirls and stage performers and assistants,” Demarco said, after a long, solemn pause. “They’re some of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. Even when so much of their work goes thankless and unrecognized.”
The way he watched her made Kallia want to turn away now. He could pin her in place with a word, a look. A laugh, a smile, even the raise of a brow. She didn’t like the way it came out of nowhere, the impact of even the littlest movements.
“I wish I could’ve seen you perform,” she confessed under her breath, rolling out the tension from her wrist. “I wish you’d never stopped.”
His shoulders tensed. “Why?”
She didn’t care if he turned her down, if it sounded silly. Perhaps by putting it out into the world, it could happen. “So we could really perform together one day.”
More and more, she’d begun to imagine it. Performing with him, seeing how their powers played together—if they clashed discordantly, or found harmony. Magic was so intimate, in that way. Kallia never felt more alive, more in tune with herself, than on stage performing. Or learning tricks with Jack. There was a closeness to it she hadn’t expected, an understanding. She would never forget that familiarity they shared, no matter how hard she tried.
All at once, the air turned cold. The music had fallen silent without Kallia’s influence, her focus on Demarco as he turned away. “That won’t happen.”
She bit the inside of her lip. “But why—”
“No questions. Please.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and tossed his rag to the ground. His posture rigid. Unyielding as rock, as if they’d landed back to her first audition. Strangers.
“You asked first, and I answered.” Unable to help herself, she reached out for his elbow. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you.”
Demarco moved out from under her hand, shaking his head. “This … this was a mistake.”
Her hand still hovered, outstretched at his retreating footsteps. “What do you mean?”
“I shouldn’t be your mentor.”
He didn’t mean that. Every muscle in her drew tight as she stalked off after him. “What?”
He just kept walking away. Ignoring her. Without her heels, he didn’t hear her coming up behind him, or see her before she planted her back against the door, stopping him in his tracks. Their faces close, chests nearly touching. His eyes fell to her mouth, blinking with awareness before he shuffled back abruptly.
Kallia’s heart fluttered, her thoughts awry. “Forget what I said. I’m sorry.” She’d vow never to pry, to never ask him about performance life, if it wiped the resigned look off his face.
“I’m sorry, too, Kallia.”
She didn’t like the way he said her name. Like something close to an end. “Tell me, what did I do?” she demanded. “What can I do?”
“Move from the door, please.”
He was really going to leave. No explanation, nothing.
“Make me.” Her skin hummed, her muscles vibrating in a pull of strength that would keep the door shut. “Let’s settle this the old-fashioned way.”
“I’m not dueling you.” A grimness set within his jaw. He turned on his heel, marching back the other way for an exit. With the disrepair of the estate, he could probably crawl through a hole in the wall or the rickety windows if he was desperate enough to escape.
Kallia couldn’t tell if the sight enraged or annoyed her more. “You think it wouldn’t be