My manicure sparkled against the crude rope ladder as I climbed to the rafters. Uncle Wolffe’s taunting of the crowd had already begun. Mere minutes now.
“There goes our star!” Aunt Caroline yelled. The rest of the performers gathered around the bottom of the ladder.
“Time for your daily hour of work, Luxie girl?”
“She makes more in an hour than you do in a whole night!”
If they’d known about our champagne crisis, they wouldn’t be laughing. Perhaps Nana had managed to keep a secret to herself for once. Good.
“Look at that behind!” Aunt Caroline catcalled. “A moneymaker, if I’ve ever seen one.”
“Is that a gray hair I see?”
“On her head or her cookie?”
For Pete’s sake. My family was incapable of being serious.
“Shame you won’t join us in the Fun House,” Aunt Caroline continued. “A night with the ice princess would earn us plenty of jewels.”
They’d called me that for years, assuming I was too uppity to earn my keep in the Fun House like everyone else. Uncle Wolffe told them it was his idea—that he liked to keep his “most precious jewel” a rare sighting for the customers—but that hadn’t stopped the family from teasing me relentlessly about going to bed while they went to work.
But not tonight. “Actually,” I called down, “I’ll be taking a customer.”
My aunt’s smile was an enormous, devilish thing. “No way.”
I shrugged. “Can’t let you have all the Fun House glory.”
Their cheers and jeers drowned out Uncle Wolffe’s booming voice. If my mother were still alive, she would have been right there beside her sisters, brimming with pride. Or maybe she’d be waiting in the rafters to repeat the advice she’d given me my whole life. Pull just enough magic from the jewel to make it believable. Slow and steady. And never lay a finger on a customer—no matter how sweet their face, use your magic, not your body.
When I neared the top, I turned to face them. Dancers and clowns, flamethrowers and tightrope walkers, beast tamers and contortionists. There wasn’t a family on the planet that could compete with ours. Nothing—absolutely nothing—beat being a Revelle.
Nana pressed her hands over her heart and lifted them to me. “Go get those jewels, my darling girl.”
“Just like you taught me.” I blew her a kiss. For her, I’d seduce a hundred Chronoses.
By the time I stepped on the trapeze platform, my heart had swelled to twice its size.
For the final act, the spotlight belonged to Colette, Millie, and me: the Trapeze Three. We’d given ourselves that lofty title as little girls daydreaming in bed. No space between us. No boundaries, no secrets.
That was before Uncle Wolffe named me the star, four years ago. Aunt Adeline had been the show’s first Black star, and Colette was poised to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She’d prepared for it her whole life, always a step ahead of Millie and me. And when our mothers died, she’d taken over our training. She deserved the position. If I hadn’t discovered my strange, secondary magic, if Uncle Wolffe hadn’t helped me hone it into a secret weapon, she’d be the star. Not me.
As devastated as Colette had been when her father picked me, that wasn’t why we’d grown apart. No, that was my doing, courtesy of years of hiding in Wolffe’s office while my cousins gallivanted about the Night District. I couldn’t risk an Edwardian learning what I could do. So I declined my cousins’ invites, becoming the lazy, brown-nosing star. Their ice princess.
Eventually, they stopped asking.
When I appeared atop the ladder, Millie was laughing at something Colette had said, and I couldn’t help but admire the way her abundant figure filled out her leotard while my flat chest could double as an ironing board. Along with Nana’s curves, she’d inherited Nana’s perennially amused smile, too. My mother used to tell me to copy Millie’s smile during dance lessons. The audience loves a happy girl.
When she spotted me, Millie lifted a perfectly arched brow. “Are you really working in the Fun House tonight?”
“I am.” I dipped my hands into the chalk bag and clapped away the excess.
“Well, that’s just the bee’s knees! Isn’t it, Col?”
“Thrilling.” Colette continued to fix her lipstick without looking away from the small mirror. “Three minutes until our first leap.”
An all-too-familiar silence fell over us. Once upon a time we’d never run out of things to say to each other. Now we were experts at polite conversation.
“I like the new leotards,” I offered. Our measly budget only allowed for a new costume for me, but Colette had recycled bits of the gymnasts’ apparel for her and Millie, too.
Millie smoothed the sparkling silver fabric. “Light colors wash me out, but you know Colette always has to look the best.”
The light fabric didn’t wash out Millie’s fair complexion, but it shimmered like starlight against Colette’s warm brown skin. Her braided updo accented the sharpness of her cheekbones, and the faux jewels she’d applied to the corners of her wide eyes made them pop.
Millie reached into her leotard to scoop her ridiculous cleavage. “Did Uncle Wolffe give you a mark for your first time? Or will you go with the highest bidder?”
“I have a mark.” I straightened my legs in front of me and bowed into a deep stretch.
“Let me guess. Another rich tourist.”
Colette rolled her eyes. “It’s always a rich tourist.”
Uncle Wolffe’s jeers filled the silence as I braced myself. By the end of the night, the whole family would know my mark. Chronoses never set foot in the Fun House. They never so much as held a jewel within ten yards of a Revelle.
There was no point dodging the question. “Actually, it’s Dewey Chronos.”
Their jaws snapped open.
“You’re debuting with a Chronos?” Colette hissed.
“I can’t believe Uncle Wolffe would do that!” Millie exclaimed. “Who knows what sorts of fantasies a Chronos will want you to conjure for him?”
I couldn’t let my mind go there, not when we were moments away from jumping.
Colette crossed her arms. “No way a Chronos forks over a jewel. Not even for you.”
“Is he the one who’s always with the mayor?” Millie asked. “Or the other brother?”
“The other one’s the bootlegger.” Colette’s frown deepened. “We’re not buying booze from a Chronos, are we?”
As if we had any other choice.
Millie’s sweet smile faded. “Is this why Nana was crying earlier?”
Oh, Nana. The last thing we needed were rumors that we’d gone dry on opening night.
It wasn’t fair. If our mothers were still alive, they would have dealt with the liquor crisis. They still would have been the family’s primary breadwinners, and as Nana’s daughters, they’d be best at consoling her. I wouldn’t have to magically seduce a damn Chronos. And I wouldn’t have to lie to my cousins about it.
But life wasn’t fair. Whining about it wouldn’t bring them back to life.
With my chin high, I flashed them my most confident smile. “Don’t worry. Everything’s hotsy-totsy.”
Millie seemed to relax, but Colette watched me as I finished my stretches. Millie and I used to joke that someone on Aunt Adeline’s side must have had Edwardian blood, because Colette almost always could see through our lies. Even when we were little, she was the rule follower, while Millie and I had no qualms about picking the lock on Nana’s candy drawer.
The crowd laughed as Uncle Wolffe teased a customer about overcompensating with the size of his top hat. Any moment now.
Millie grabbed the bifocals and leaned over the edge. “Which one is he?”
“Executive suite, I bet.” Colette peered at the crowd below. “I hear he always wears a black jacket with that ridiculous diamond-shaped clock on the lapel.”
Millie stiffened. “I see him. Look.”
Colette squinted into the crowd below. “Wait . . . is he sitting with my brother?”
“Roger’s back?” I nearly lost my balance. Three long years, he’d been gone.
“Omigosh!” Millie squealed. “There he is!”
Colette pressed her fingers to her lips as she struggled to regain her composure. Roger’s abrupt exit from Charmant had been hardest for her. Uncle Wolffe did his best to be a good father, but with Aunt Adeline gone, and ninety-six Revelles looking to him to keep them afloat, Colette had been mostly on her own. “Of course he has to make an entrance. He couldn’t just come backstage. He has to sit in the executive suite acting chummy with the bootlegger.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “That sounds exactly like Roger.”
“The bootlegger looks different. Good different.” Millie’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Maybe you’ll fall in love! You could have charming, time-traveling babies together.”
Colette arched her brow. “You want her to marry into a family of rotten politicians?”
“Fair point.”
“Love?” I had to laugh. Falling in love was the silliest thing a Revelle could do. “I don’t need love; I need rich.”
Millie’s grin widened. “You’re going to love the Fun House. I just know it.”
Far below us, the drummers began their slow, torturous tempo. Our cue.
“Here goes nothing.” Colette and Millie grabbed their bars and lined up their toes at the edge of the board.
Here goes everything. I braced myself. Time to call on my other magic.
“Are you ready for the dazzling Daughter of the Night?” Uncle Wolffe boomed.
The rafters rumbled and shook as the crowd stomped their feet. I closed my eyes and squeezed my hands together. Now or never.
“Are you ready for the irresistible, the exquisite, the Radiant Ruby of Revelle?”
My mind was a knife, and it cut down my throat, through my ribs, into my core. Sweat beaded at the top of my forehead. It felt wrong, like swallowing a flame that burned me from the inside out. Every instinct urged me to withdraw, but I let my magic cut deeper.
Magic always has a cost, and mine was pain. Deathly, mind-numbing pain. As soon as I envisioned charming someone without jewels, a headache cleaved open my skull with the force of a thousand axes. But if I could withstand it, I could charm anyone. Even a Chronos.
I held on, trembling, while Colette and Millie exchanged looks. They thought I panicked right before every performance. As I struggled to keep my composure, I bit my tongue so hard, I tasted iron.
Strings of light blinked into existence—stunning, ethereal things of varying colors and illuminance. Jewel magic was invisible, but these luminous wisps of color whipped around me like untied hair on a windy day. Each lightstring led to an audience member, a vibrant manifestation of their emotions so I could mold them as I pleased.
This was why my show was the most popular, why Uncle Wolffe had made me the star. Millie was the prettiest, and Colette the most talented, but I gave the tourists a taste of heaven.
Nana was going to bathe in champagne tonight.
I grabbed hold of the nearest lightstrings, my throbbing head protesting as my mind gripped another.
And another. And another.
The bursts of color swirled, too many to catch individual emotions. Red was always lust. Green, jealousy. Blue, sadness. And a smoky darkness for simmering anger.
I would seduce them.
I would charm them.
They would empty their pockets, claw diamonds from their settings and throw them into my waiting hands. Dewey Chronos would be so impressed with me, he’d fork over ships full of liquor. We wouldn’t just survive Prohibition; we’d thrive. We’d be a boozy sanctuary for all the world’s sinners.
Most important, we’d keep our business. Our home.
Colette tugged on my arm. “Are you ready?”
I nodded, my body acclimating to the pain.
She signaled to Uncle Wolffe far below. Fighting a burst of dizziness, I located the lightstring leading to the young man with the diamond-shaped clock on his lapel. Fortunately, there was no sign of Trevor Edwardes, Dewey’s mind-reading assistant, who, according to Uncle Wolffe, was present for nearly all his deals. Instead, Roger lounged beside the bootlegger, wearing a neon green touristy top hat and his usual mischievous grin.
Dewey Chronos leaned forward, and a surprising surge of pleasure threatened my focus as a stray spotlight passed over his face. He wasn’t just handsome; he was gorgeous. Unruly dark hair, broad shoulders, and a strangely earnest lightstring. A far cry from the sickly little boy I remembered.
I searched his whorl of emotions for something I could use to our advantage. He was excited, of course, and rather drunk. Good. Also a twinge homesick. Apparently, the rumors about his estrangement from his family were true.
“I don’t think she can hear you!” my uncle taunted.
You belong here, I whispered down his lightstring. Hope surged, blindingly golden. Jackpot.
Pain shot into my skull hard enough for me to cry out, but no one heard, not over the thousand hungry mouths shouting my name. With his lightstring firmly in my control, I gripped my trapeze swing and inched closer to Colette. The humid air over the pit greeted me, thick with cigar smoke and cheap beer.
Millie swung out over the crowd. They went wild, a frenzy of colorful top hats. The spotlight flashed toward the sky once more, and Colette swung from the rafters in a graceful dive. The crowd shouted impossibly louder, their voices shaking my wooden platform.
My turn to fly. Despite the pain of my magic, I was ready for the coolness of the night to rush over my bare skin, the roar of the audience quieted by the sheer concentration required to perform trapeze. For a few blissful minutes, it would be only me, my cousins, and the unbreakable trust that still tethered us together. They’d catch me. They always did.
I caressed Dewey Chronos’s lightstring. You’re about to see the most beautiful girl in the world.
The audience screamed for me, for Luxe Revelle, Daughter of the Night. Gripping the trapeze, I allowed myself one final breath—
—and I leaped from the ledge.
