But like always, I say what I have to, to get through today. “I know, sir.” I nod. “I will.”
Outside Gunn’s office, we hear the turn of Gunn’s doorknob, but the door doesn’t open, thanks to my linked trick. Then the slamming of another door. A muffled curse, and then another.
“Someone’s in the hall.” Gunn quickly grabs the bottle of sealed shine, places it in his bottom drawer, and locks it away. “Figure out who.”
I press my ear to the door, whisper “Amplify,” and hear more curses, mutterings, a muffled, “I’m not sure, Boss—”
“My best guess? Boss McEvoy.”
“What the hell’s he doing here?” Gunn’s face is now a shade paler, though I swear I thought Gunn said there was a meeting of McEvoy’s underbosses. “Where’d you link this door to?”
“The bathroom.”
Gunn stands up. “Quick, go on, open the door.”
I release the linked trick, and we open Gunn’s office to a flustered Boss McEvoy barreling out of the john. My pulse quickens, just on seeing him. A man nicknamed the Jackal—a man who Shaw boys whisper collects teeth and fingernails as souvenirs—is not someone you want to trick.
“Is every door in this fucking Den spellbound?” McEvoy spits at me as he heads toward Gunn’s office.
My throat closes, but Gunn saves me with, “She was demonstrating a new linked trick for our finale. Apologies, sir, I didn’t realize you’d be stopping by.”
“I always make my rounds, even to the far-flung corners of my empire,” McEvoy digs. He throws a shoulder as he sidesteps me into Gunn’s office, so I step out into the hall. “Besides, I need to talk to you, about Sullivan.”
“Something happen down at the racetrack, sir?” Gunn asks.
McEvoy holds up his hand to Gunn, a sign for, Wait a minute. He calls into the hall, “Alex, protect the door, would you?”
Alex? I whip around. And there he is. Alex Danfrey, standing in front of the bathroom. A warm, sinking feeling takes me hostage for a second. But Alex’s eyes are on McEvoy. What’s he doing with Boss McEvoy? “Of course, sir,” Alex says.
After Gunn closes his office door, Alex waves his hand, and a perfect spitting-image replica of the door crystalizes before the actual door in front of us. There’s only one difference—his replica has no handle, no way inside.
“Clever.” I manage to find my voice.
Alex smiles. “Well, it’s no linked trick that dumps the Boss of the Shaws into the john, but it’ll have to do.”
I swallow. “God, I hope McEvoy doesn’t hold a grudge.”
Alex’s smile just becomes wider. “You’re tough to forget, Joan, but lucky for you, I think the Boss has other things on his mind.”
I wasn’t expecting to see Alex today, but now that I have, I’m almost hopped up on adrenaline. I want to stop time and break this moment open. It feels like a surprise gift, having Alex for as long as McEvoy and Gunn confer behind closed doors.
Alex paces back toward the main show space and waves for me to follow.
“So you’re running with Boss McEvoy these days?” I jog to catch up with him.
Alex nods, looks around, whispers, “I’m his right-hand sorcerer now.”
Right-hand sorcerer? I study Alex’s face, trying to get a read on him, because I almost can’t believe what he’s said. Alex doesn’t seem hard enough for McEvoy, isn’t the kind of sorcerer who should be attached to the side of a man called the Jackal. I don’t know how many of the rumors I’ve heard about the Boss are true, but if even half are, I’m terrified for him.
“An opportunity presented itself,” Alex adds slowly. “It’s a step up, obviously, from running for Win. Besides, McEvoy’s not the kind of man you can say no to.”
Well, that I understand. “You really must have some sorcering chops, if you caught McEvoy’s eye.” I feel my own blush coming on from paying him the compliment. “How’s the new gig working out?”
Alex crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Truthfully?” He lowers his voice. “A lot of casting spells to break fingers. A lot of sleepless nights. A lot of tricking McEvoy into thinking I’m worth keeping around.”
I shake my head, not sure how to answer.
“You think I’m joking.” He attempts a smile. “I’m not. It’s difficult magic, casting spells to convince others of your competence.” Despite the smile, Alex’s sadness is so real I can practically see it on him, like a thin layer of dust. It makes me want more than just this steady banter we’ve got going on between us. I want his whole story. I want to know what’s haunting that smile—how he spends his days, what he’s doing in the time between when I see him around the Den. If he’s safe, if he really can handle it.
“Are you going to be all right?” I manage. “Haven’t spent more than a few minutes with the man around here, but McEvoy’s got a reputation for being impossible.”