clenched my fists.
Devereaux turned to Dad. “I’m surprised at you, Mr. Dante. Breaking in here like this. I would expect more consideration from a fellow magician.”
Dad opened his mouth, but I jumped in before he could speak.
“It’s not his fault,” I blurted, taking a step forward. “It was my idea.”
“Right.” Devereaux squinted at me. “You’re the girl in the hoodie. Where’s your friend?”
His words brought back the hot weight in my chest; he must have seen Ripley and me in the security footage. Ripley should have been here with me to see this—even though we were about to lose everything, he should have been here. He’d earned it, but I’d driven him away.
When I didn’t answer, Devereaux turned his attention to Rico, who looked mildly horrified by the whole scenario. “Since they’re your friends, I’m not going to press charges. They’ll sign NDAs, and you’ll escort them out.” He turned back to us. “It was a pleasure to meet you both. Circumstances notwithstanding.” Then he turned and strode toward the exit.
I watched him walking away, heard the click of his heels on the stage like the tick of a timer counting down. We’d been caught. We’d failed. This had been our last chance, and it was walking away with Daniel Devereaux.
He was reaching for the stage door when I heard myself call out.
“Wait!”
To my surprise, he stopped and turned back.
“Wait, Mr. Devereaux. Please.”
Maybe it was the desperation in my voice, or maybe he’d only been testing—but he walked back toward us.
“What is it, Ms. Dante?”
“I need your help.” I looked back at my dad. “We need your help.”
“What kind of help?”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was suddenly a desert.
“We need you to show Higgins your method for the flying illusion.”
Devereaux smirked, but it faded rapidly. “You’re serious?”
I nodded.
“Why in the world would I show him the secret to my best-known illusion?”
“Actually,” Higgins broke in, “the whole Arc de Triomphe thing is probably— Ow!”
Rico had stomped on Higgins’s foot.
Devereaux turned back to me. “Jif is obsessed. He’s been trying to get his hands on my rig for years. But what’s in it for you?”
I exchanged a glance with Dad; what did we have to lose?
“We’re broke,” I said. Devereaux didn’t react. “Dad’s been invited to perform on Flynn & Kellar’s Live Magic Retrospective. It’s his only shot at a comeback. But Higgins has our props. He wants five grand, and we don’t have it.”
Devereaux frowned. “So he what—said he’d hand them over if you could sneak him in here and persuade me to show him my method?”
“Yes,” I said, a little too quickly; this was far better than having him think we’d come to steal his rig.
Devereaux laughed. “And I thought I’d seen everything.” He sighed, tugged at the cuff of one sleeve, and turned to Dad. “I need a new bit. Something to fill the time while my crew clears the stage after my car production. Something simple I can do in the audience. What have you got?”
Dad raised his eyebrows. “You’re serious?”
Devereaux shrugged. “I don’t like anything my team has come up with yet. Show me something new. If I like it, maybe we can do a swap.”
Dad’s eyes sparkled. “A close-up bit? Sleight of hand, something that’ll print on the big screen?”
Devereaux pointed a finger at him. “Exactly.”
Dad thought for a moment, then smiled. “Ellie’s got just the thing.”
Devereaux leveled his gaze at me, and my guts turned to ice.
“Show me.”
CHAPTER 26
MY HANDS WERE SHAKING AS I set up backstage. There was no Wild Turkey on hand, but Dougie had some Jack Daniel’s stashed in his office. I wasn’t used to working with a square bottle, so I practiced half a dozen times. I almost dropped it twice.
“Breathe,” Dad said.
“I am breathing,” I snapped, though, in fact, I’d been holding my breath the whole time. I set the bottle and the shot glass on the desk and put my face in my hands.
“I’m going to screw this up just like I did in Mishawaka.”
“No, you’re not.” Dad squeezed my shoulder. “This is where you shine.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve been . . .” Up is what I meant to say, but the word hovered just past the edge of my mind, unwilling to step forward and present itself. It happened sometimes, when I started down the slope. Words got lost.
“I know it’s hard,” Dad said. He put his hand under my chin. “This thing you tow around with you—it drags you through wreckage, I know it does.