over us as a dense fog billows out from some hidden machine to cover the small stage and most of the audience.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary patrons.” A deep voice booms over a speaker system. “Prepare to have your senses fooled and your minds delighted as we enter a world of illusion and misdirection, where nothing is as it seems.” The announcer pauses. Anticipation electrifies the air. “Put your hands together and give a loud, proud Brooklyn welcome to Alice Ansley!”
A whoop travels through the crowd, and we all applaud.
The spotlights flick on, illuminating a shadowy figure at the center of the fog. The mist clears, and Alice steps forward. A few patrons woo! like they’re at a concert, and the excitement spreading from table to table is infectious.
Like her show poster, Alice is dressed all in black, though she’s traded out her leather jacket for a crisp three-piece suit, complete with bow tie and black-and-white wing-tipped shoes. Her old-fashioned magician’s hat is tipped forward on her head while her pink hair spills down her shoulders, falling all the way to mid-back.
When she reaches the front of the stage, she flourishes a bow and removes the hat, tossing it to the side. It lands perfectly on a coat rack that I hadn’t noticed before. It’s an impressive shot, though I suppose any Blood Witch could master the toss after just a few tries.
“Thank you all so much for coming,” Alice says, pulling a deck of cards from her pocket. She wears a tiny mic at her crisp collar, which transmits her words in surround sound. “I need a volunteer.”
Hands raise all around me, each audience member eager to be chosen. I keep my hand down. Something about her voice is familiar. It picks at the back of my mind, but I can’t place it. Alice selects a participant from the second row and asks the woman to choose a card.
Each time she speaks, that sense of familiarity grows stronger. I study her face, trying to see beyond the heavy contour, winged eye makeup, and shimmering highlight.
Alice places the deck between the woman’s hands and presses, the cards disappearing until only one remains. The crowd gasps when Alice takes the card, and the volunteer lets out a shocked laugh, revealing that Alice has indeed found her card, the six of hearts.
“But where is the rest of the deck?” the woman asks, turning the single card over and over in her hand.
Alice scans the crowd. “You there,” she calls, “in the red tie. Can you please check your jacket pocket? The inside one.”
Two rows in front of me and three tables to the left, the person with the red tie checks their pocket. They laugh as they pull out a deck of cards and hold it up for everyone else to see.
The audience cheers. Victory settles over Alice’s features, and an icy chill creeps up my spine. I see it now. Alice with her hair in a tight bun, blonde instead of pink. Anger and fear on her face instead of the easy smile of a performer. I feel her hand clamped tightly around my throat.
This mission is doomed.
“I know her,” I whisper to Morgan. All hope of destroying the drug before the trial splinters and falls to pieces around me.
Morgan doesn’t look away from the audience member searching the deck for the six of hearts. “How?”
“She’s the Blood Witch I met in New York.” My voice is so low that I don’t know at first if Morgan hears me. But then she turns, her eyes huge. “She’s the one who tried to kill me.”
8
FOR THE NEXT HOUR, Alice Ansley delights and confounds her audience. Twice, I swear she looks directly at me. My palms go slick with cold sweat, but she always looks away. I can only hope that the spotlights in her eyes blur my features beyond recognition. For her final trick, Alice disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving the crowd standing and cheering in her absence.
I don’t have time to be awed by her skill or to wonder how she accomplished each seemingly impossible feat. This mission is so beyond screwed.
“What do we do?” Morgan whispers as the crowd ebbs and flows around us. We lose Sarah in the rush of bodies, and Morgan keeps one hand on my elbow as we maneuver to the stairwell and slip back into the hotel. “Is there any chance she won’t recognize you?”
“The Caster Witches tried to strip Alice of her magic.