simply can’t stall much longer. If they left the city, I’ll make sure they never find a stage again. I don’t have patience for those who leave without explanation.”
“Well, Mister Rayne, there is something,” the stage manager said, tentatively pulling more paper from her board. “I found these, left on the chairs of their dressing rooms.”
She tossed them on the table, three square-cut pieces of parchment with a brief line in the center. Three words: Four of Flesh.
“Oh, for Zarose sake,” the mayor moaned, running a hand down his face. “Not this ridiculous nonsense agai—”
BOOM!
The entire theater shook at the roar shattering overhead. An explosion. Daron’s ears popped as he covered them, screams erupting over an immense bell, ringing high from within the Alastor Place.
BOOM!
With each toll, everyone flinched.
BOOM!
The stage curtains shivered. The judges’ water glasses tipped over.
“Will you stop that incessant ringing?!” Erasmus yelled at the mayor, whose face had gone white. The chandeliers lining the ceiling clinked and shook, threatening to fall.
“It’s impossible,” Mayor Eilin insisted, unblinking. “We haven’t been able to get these bells to ring for—”
BOOM!
At the fourth toll, uncertain silence followed. The air had settled, chasing away all heat from the room as audience members stared wide-eyed at the judges’ table.
Daron swallowed, his nerves frayed.
Whatever that was, this couldn’t go on. Magicians disappearing and bell towers tolling. For the safety of everyone here, they must cancel the show before things only worsened.
Before another accident occurred.
The dark cloud blackened Daron’s thoughts, taking him back to his last performance. That terrible night where something had felt off in the air, the night he’d spent years trying to push away no matter how hard grief pushed back.
No. Daron didn’t want to remember her that way. The look she’d given him before they went on stage together, the mirror—
He shut his eyes tightly for a breath, before blinking open to the sight of Erasmus, shaky on his feet, climbing onto the seat of his chair and turning to the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are terribly, terribly sorry about that most upsetting disruption,” called out the proprietor, impressively chipper for how his knees trembled. “We’re still in various stages of fully renovating the Alastor Place, so our deepest apologies to anyone distressed or alarmed.”
Daron’s mouth warped in alarm at the slow curve of Erasmus’s smile.
“Rest be assured, what happened earlier was only an accident,” the man continued gaily, looking to the other judges with blazing intensity. A brightening gleam in his eye that Daron had come to dread. “Tonight’s show will go on!”
A tentative round of applause came from the people settling back into their front-row seats. The adrenaline mixed with the earlier terror finally hit the crowd, building back up into an excited clamor. It didn’t take long for everyone to return to hooting and hollering for the spectacle to finally begin.
Daron could only glare at Erasmus. “This isn’t wise, and you know it.”
“Actually, I don’t.” He stepped down from his platform, like a king dismounting from his war horse. “Rough patches happen all the time.”
“When lives could be at stake, then no. They shouldn’t.”
“Don’t be dramatic. And no need to go running to your aunt. This is show business. Just because in your last performance, your assistant—”
“Don’t.” Daron’s voice went deathly cold. Murderous.
The rage returned, filling him in a way magic never had before.
If it weren’t for the widening of Erasmus’s gaze, there would’ve been no stopping him from throwing the man on stage and giving everyone a real show.
“Apologies, Demarco. It was a low blow.” Erasmus patted him good-naturedly on the arm, his version of a genuine attempt. “But one failed night is all it takes to destroy everything, and we can’t afford to delay any longer.”
The man began dabbing at the sweat across his forehead with a bright handkerchief. From heat or nerves, he couldn’t say. No matter what Erasmus intended, his reassurance did not ease Daron in any way.
One night.
He knew, better than anyone, the damage one night could cause.
* * *
“What the hell was that?” Kallia swore, slowly rising. Her entire dressing room had rippled under the force, but nothing could compare to the sound. Ominous and heavy, thundering loudly overhead again and again.
Until at last, silence.
“I think … it stopped.” Aaros cautiously uncupped his ears. The air had grown still, the walls no longer shaking. The sudden peace seemed to unnerve him even more as he made for the door. “I’ll find out what’s going on and check on the Conquerors.”