around her a little too quickly, startled gasps of both fear and delight sounded. Whenever a lean or a lift led them out of the fire’s path, relieved breaths and clapping trickled in over the heady beat.
Demarco was letting her lead more tonight, his movements less sure. She would never hold his nerves against him, when there was so little warning. If anyone had more reason to fear when it came to mirrors, it was him. The fact that he chose to stay by her, in spite of it all, meant everything.
So she gladly seized the lead. Relieved to be in control, when all else felt out of her grasp.
Her chest heaved slightly as they reached the next phase of the act. She squeezed Demarco’s shoulders to signal the lift. He took her by the waist, holding her up as she raised her arms high above, the music dropping with the boom of a drum.
She sliced her arms downward, feeling the orbs of fire falling back to the floor in bursts around them.
The audience roared. Triumph shot through her veins, on top of exhaustion. Her legs trembled from the effort as he lowered her, but his grip was looser. Familiar, from all the practice.
He had initially hesitated over a fiery dance floor. One drop, and she could fall into the blaze, despite her confidence in her quick reflexes. Still, each time they reached this point in the dance, he’d grip her tighter. A reminder. I’ve got you. I will never let you fall.
She leaned into his hold, the way his fingers spanned her waist teasingly, pressing her against him. His panting in her ear, against her skin.
Heat coiled in her belly as she arched her back out, her head tipped back and hair falling down her spine. There was only sensation, and she gloried in it. Flying over the fire, sweat trailing down her skin, applause ringing in her ears.
Kallia
Her name played on their lips like a song. She’d had no name at Hellfire House, but here, she was known. Here, she would be remembered and spoken of for longer than a night.
Kallia
Kallia
Kallia
Cheers burst loud as screams, piercing enough to make Kallia stiffen. She’d introduced no tricks, no moves to raise such a reaction.
“What’s happening?” she whispered into his neck.
“KALLIA!”
She straightened at the voice echoing from the crowd.
Impossible.
It sounded like Demarco, screaming her name beyond the stage.
The cold shattered inside her. Kallia pushed at the hands around her, tearing off the blindfold. As soon as she broke her hold on the act, the fires around them died into smoke, thin as veils. Gasps erupted at the sudden end, while others clapped on.
Her eyes watered from the smoke, widening when she saw Demarco before her, a confused expression on his face. His hand, raised to the chandelier.
The grand fixture had been lightless before, but he sent colorful bursts straight from his palms into each dangling gem, transforming the entire ballroom so it looked like glimmering jewels chasing across the walls.
Magic.
It couldn’t be.
“How are you…” Kallia looked up, mouth parted. Still hearing Demarco shouting from a distance, feeling him hold her against him. “What are you doing?”
“Distracting them.”
The lights remained playing against the chandelier as he grasped her by the waist, suddenly tugging her toward him, away from the center—
“Kallia!”
Her ears perked. The same desperate shout. She turned, and in the space between two mirrors, she saw Demarco pushing himself past guests in his path, panting and grasping the frames of the mirror to lunge forward.
Two Demarcos.
Exactly the same. Same height, same clothes, same expression of shock.
One pulling her off stage, and another entering.
Even louder hoots and whistles rang throughout the room, but blood roared in Kallia’s ears. She stilled before the man pulling her could take her any farther, staring in horror between the two of them.
She finally faced the mirrors.
Through the smoke, she saw herself, but it was not Demarco reflected in the mirror with her. A different figure, different height. Another man.
Jack.
“Get away from her!” the Demarco entering the cage snarled.
She ripped herself away and shifted back from them both, shuddering off the feel of Jack wearing the skin of another. He couldn’t hide himself from the mirrors, his true reflection showing all across the cage.
He was here.
Shaking, Kallia nearly screamed when her back collided with another chest, but warm fingers gripped her elbow, steadying her. “It’s me,” he whispered, pleading. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I swear, it’s me.”
She should’ve known sooner. All the touches that seemed